#Also yes I'm aware of the Song lyrics

[royalarchivist]

I don't think anyone was prepared for what Tubbo was about to drop when he said "You guys want a meme song?" let alone what came after it, that transition was CRAZY

Tubbo's DJ sets are so much fun 🎶

[nerdallwritey]

Awfully Fond of You

Request: i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a little something for act 1, during the tiefling party for an autistic tav who has a crush on astarion but also has body insecurities + SA trauma, maybe instead of the usual scene that goes down they request to bathe with astarion instead? a tav with poor interoception (sense of awareness with one’s body) who loves to help and touch others but doesn’t quite register others touching them or how they feel about it but still craving intimacy with astarion is something i’m obsessed with (*^^*)*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* i love your writing style and NEVER request so im super nervous!!  - 🪴 (Link to original request here).

Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Rating: 18+ - no smut, but mature themes Word Count: 7.7k CW: Very vague alludes to SA trauma, reader is a sweetie pie, Astarion is an idiot as always - No explicit smut this time; this one's mostly fluff! Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3

a/n: Hello folks! I come bearing my very first request fulfillment! As you can tell from the ask, 🪴 anon wanted something very personal and sweet, and I'm incredibly honored that they chose me to see their vision come to life. I did my best to hit every beat they requested, while also staying true to my writing style, which, of course, means there's plenty of banter to be had. Yes, it is a bit similar to An Evening To Ourselves and Perfect Every Time (I swear I was in the middle of writing that one when I received this request), but I'm pleased with how this new remix of Astarion's Act 1 romance scene turned out! And yes, the title IS based on a lyric from everyone's favorite Sesame Street bath time song, "Rubber Duckie." HIT IT, BOYS! (Thank you, as always, to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) NOTE: This Tav is completely separate from bard!Tav and does not take place in the same universe as Beauty and the Bard. Part 5 of that coming soon! And my request box is open!

Without further ado, 🪴 anon, I hope you like it!

The air in camp was abuzz with laughter and cheer. Booze flowed into goblets and down throats, and smiles graced the faces of nearly every guest currently in attendance of the last minute celebration thrown together by you and your companions.

With the goblins and their leaders defeated in what turned out to be a rather difficult encounter, Halsin and Zevlor had insisted on celebrating with you and your party at your campsite before the tieflings made their way to Baldur’s Gate within the next few days. 

Alfira supplied the evening with a somewhat constant stream of joyful songs, only stopping every so often to enjoy a drink with Lakrissa, while other tieflings danced and mingled with each other, relief and excitement making their shoulders relax as they reached for more goblets of wine. 

You were in the process of making your rounds through the party; you’d shared a drink with Shadowheart, some jokes with Gale and Karlach, a quiet moment with Wyll, and a confusing conversation with Lae’zel about limbs being torn from a neogi? You weren’t entirely sure what those even were, but you had to assume they were a fearsome creature if Lae’zel was bringing it up. 

That only left Astarion.

To be honest, you’d been avoiding him all night. Try as he might to catch your eye whenever you passed by, whether it be with a pointed clearing of his throat or a blatant call of your name, you would zero in on something else, and focus all your attention on that. Even if it meant sitting through an extended conversation with Volo. 

But now, there was nowhere left to go. Unless you opted to avoid him completely. And that would only lead to questions from your companions that you wouldn’t know how to answer.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. No. In fact, it was the exact opposite. You liked him a lot. And you weren’t sure what to do about it. 

Astarion was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen and you were… you. You’d been you, your whole life, and knew for a fact that the pair of you were an odd couple. Where he was crass, you were kind. Where he was violent, you opted to talk things through. 

And yet, you couldn’t help but enjoy spending time with him. His bloodlust was fascinating to watch, and you loved sparring both physically and verbally with him. More than once, you’d both saved the other’s ass in a sticky situation during battle. More than once, you’d allowed him to drink from you to ease his sanguine hunger. 

You were pretty sure that at the very least, he considered you a friend, though you weren’t sure he’d ever directly admit that to you. Unlike Gale and Wyll, who often reminded you how much they appreciated your friendship, Astarion was much tougher to read. Yet despite his somewhat malicious name calling and disapproval towards your actions, you couldn’t help but feel that he had a soft spot for you. Even when you were telling him he couldn’t kill a man in cold blood, it seemed like he legitimately enjoyed your company. The thought made you smile softly.

Taking in a deep breath and straightening your posture, you finally willed yourself to approach the vampire.

His eyes lit up in that way they often did when he was preparing to tease you.

“There you are, darling,” he said, dramatically. “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“Worried I’d leave you, huh?” you teased with a smirk. 

Astarion tsked. “Perish the thought. But I recognize someone avoiding me when I see it.”

“Ah,” you clasped your hands in front of yourself, looking down at the ground, “you noticed that.”

“When I usually have to pry you away from me, yes, I noticed.” He took a swig of the wine he was holding.

You nodded and bobbed back and forth on your toes. “Best for last, I guess?” you shrugged your shoulders and smiled at him, hoping he’d drop the subject.

He hummed lamely. 

“So,” you perked up, “are you enjoying the party? I see you’ve been indulging in the spirits.”

“Watching me, were you?” Astarion smirked and you held up your hands, caught.

“Guilty.”

“You know,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I never pictured myself as a hero.”

You reached out to squeeze his arm. “Don’t say that.”

His eyes met yours, and he gently pulled his arm out of your grasp. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“Never thought I’d be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” He closed his eyes and took another swig of his wine. When he brought the bottle away and opened his eyes, he met you with a scowl. “I hate it. This is awful.”

You laughed. “Really? Saving lives is awful?” 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “We killed some goblins to save some tieflings. The tally of lives didn’t change much.”

“You’re awful,” you shook your head affectionately. 

He looked smug before puffing his chest. “And what do I get for all my hard work?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“Nothing but a pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.” 

You pursed your lips and reached for the bottle, brushing your fingers against his own. 

“Let me try,” you said, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a sip. Your tongue was flooded with the bitter taste of fermented grapes and something else you couldn’t place. Your face scrunched at the flavor and Astarion snorted.

“See what I mean? Awful.”

You handed the bottle back to him, smacking your tongue to get rid of the aftertaste. He took the opportunity to continue speaking.

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?”

You let out an amused scoff. “Knowing you, it probably is.”

Astarion lifted a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Oh, don’t be so sour. I like a good time as much as anyone.”

“‘Sour,’” you repeated, pointing at his wine bottle. “Good one.”

He smirked. “You know, we could always make our own entertainment, darling.”

“Oh, really?” You lifted an eyebrow. “And what does that entail?”

“We could get a little closer, so to speak.”

You were suddenly very aware of how close you were standing to Astarion. You took a considerable step backwards and crossed your arms. 

“Sorry, I was really close to you just now, wasn’t I?” You rubbed up and down your bicep awkwardly.

Astarion blinked before his face settled into a seductive smirk. He reached his free hand out to rest on your hip. “On the contrary, my dear. I rather like it when you’re close.”

“Oh, good,” you sighed in relief. You brought your hand down to where Astarion’s rested on your hip. “Sometimes I can’t tell.”

He chuckled, squeezing your hip slightly. “So what do you say?”

“To us getting closer? I don’t mind!” To emphasize your point, you took a step forward and rested your other hand on his shoulder.

Astarion furrowed his brow. Then he chuckled again, gently removing both of your hands from his body. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.”

“Okay, now I’m really interested in what kind of entertainment you have planned.” You smirked at him, sensing a shift in his tone, but unsure of what it meant. “Don’t tell me you’re a master of shadow puppets or something.”

He smiled skeptically. “Very funny,” he said slowly. “But I trust you’ll meet me?”

You giggled. “Yes, I’ll see you later, Astarion.” 

“Indeed you will, my love. Indeed you will.” Rather than bid you a proper goodbye, Astarion brought the wine bottle to his lips once more and turned away from you. 

You spun on your heel and made your way back to the party. 

This was fine. Good, even! Spending time one-on-one with Astarion was probably exactly what you needed if you wanted to navigate this silly crush you’d developed. Sure, he’d just called you “my love,” and that was a new one, but it wasn’t that much different from the other pet names he threw at you and your companions. You didn’t need this foolish infatuation distracting you on your journey or, gods forbid, diverting your attention during battle. No, this would be the perfect time to remind yourself and your fluttering heart that Astarion was, first and foremost, your friend, and a person. It didn’t need to be anything more than that. 

Your feet carried you not too far from Astarion’s tent and landed you at Karlach’s tent, the tiefling in question currently lying on her back, looking up at the stars.

“Hey, Hot Stuff,” you said, standing over her. 

“Soldier!” she grinned, her eyes a bit fuzzy from the wine. 

“This seat taken?” You kicked your foot over some dirt to her left. 

“All yours,” she said, sitting up to join you. 

You settled down next to her and watched the party still taking place at the center of camp. It sounded like Gale and Lae’zel were having some sort of heated argument over which main courses were best to prepare for battle, while Halsin awkwardly weaved between them to gather a plate of food for himself.

“Saw you chatting up Fangs just now,” Karlach playfully air-elbowed you, careful not to accidentally touch and scorch you. “Did he have anything good to say?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” you shrugged. “He was an ass to me, I was an ass to him, the usual.”

Karlach nodded. “Sounds about right.”

You both sat in pleasant silence for a moment before you laughed a little. “It’s funny, he actually asked me to spend time with him tonight, after the party.”

Karlach furrowed her brow. “After the party? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head, “he said we could ‘make our own entertainment.’” You made air quotes when you repeated his words. “I figure he wants to read together or something. It was just weird how he phrased it.”

She sat up a little straighter, her expression growing more serious. “Hang on, what were his words, exactly?”

You leaned back a little, confused by her sudden interest in your mundane conversation with the vampire. “Um… I don’t know. He said he didn’t like being a hero, I told him not to say that, he said he wanted more than a pat on the head and bad wine, I tried the wine and it was bad, he said he wanted a little fun, ‘is that so much to ask?’ and I said ‘knowing you, it probably is,’ and then he said we could make our own entertainment. Or something like that.”

“Huh.” Karlach thought for a moment. “I think he means to bone you, Soldier.”

You sputtered out a laugh. “What?! No he doesn’t!”

“He sooooo does!” Karlach barked out a laugh. “And good for you! I know I’d ride him to the Feywild and back if I had the chance.”

“He does not,” you said again, trying to convince yourself as much as you were trying to convince Karlach. 

But you faltered. 

“Does he?”

“Soldier,” Karlach lowered her head at you, giving you an incredulous look, “he was absolutely asking you to get nasty with him.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!” she threw her hands up in the air. “We all see the way you look at each other! You practically undress one another with your eyes every time you see each other!”

“No we don’t!” you argued, but shrank back when Karlach raised an eyebrow at you. 

“You do. You know you do.” 

“Am I that obvious?” you asked, lifting your hands to your cheeks as you felt them heating up. 

Karlach started counting on her fingers. “He’s always the first one you check on after a battle, you’re always walking next to him when we’re traveling, AND you let him drink your blood. Weirdly often. Which is gross.”

“I like helping him,” you countered weakly. “And I always check on you guys, too!”

“Of course you do, Soldier, but we can all see how you two treat each other differently.”

You peered over at Astarion’s tent. He lounged comfortably amongst his pillows, a book propped open in his lap and his bottle of wine was not too far off. 

How could he be so casual and relaxed about all of this? The thought of talking to him later tonight made your stomach drop.

“What if I turn him down?” you asked softly, leaning forward to hug your knees.

Karlach’s expression softened. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She reached out a hand, but retracted it. “If I could, I’d rub your back like my mum used to do when I was a kid.”

You smiled over at her. “Thanks.”

She nodded. “If you don’t want to sleep with the leech, that’s your choice. Don’t let him talk you into it if it’s not what you want.”

“I’m not entirely sure what I want,” you admitted, looking up at the familiar stars above.

Karlach sighed. “Well, you don’t have to decide anything tonight.” She nodded her head towards his tent. “In fact, I could go beat the shit out of him, if you’d like.”

You laughed. “Not necessary. But I appreciate the offer.”

“I’ll do it.”

“I know you will,” you smiled and settled your cheek on top of your knee. “I do really like him,” you confessed.

Karlach thought for a moment. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the problem?” She cocked her head curiously.

You sighed. “Sex isn’t really something… I have a great relationship with.”

“Ah,” Karlach nodded. “Same,” she joked, flaring her flames a little for good measure.

You snickered quietly. “I won’t get into it, but… yeah. No thanks. For now, at least.”

“Say no more,” she held up her hand and turned to observe Astarion at his tent. “You could always just see what he has to say? Maybe he just wants to show you he’s a master at shadow puppets or something.”

“That’s what I said!” you laughed, and Karlach joined in.

When you’d both settled, she spoke again. “But seriously, Soldier. Astarion may be a freaky vampiric bastard, but I don’t think he’d hurt you.”

“I don’t think he would either.”

“He knows we’d kill him.”

“I’m sure you’d all take turns sending him to the hells.”

“You bet your sweet ass we would,” she brought her fist to her hand as if preparing to punch this hypothetical Astarion. 

After another quiet moment, she spoke again. “You don’t have to go with him tonight. Or, I could come with you, if you want. As backup.”

“Thanks,” you said, “but I think I need to have this conversation with him alone.”

“Of course.”

You looked back over at Astarion’s tent. He was now standing and stretching his arms over his head. When he caught you watching him, he smirked and threw a wink in your direction. You quickly snapped your head forward, back towards the center of the party. Groaning, you brought your hands up to cover your face.

“What am I gonna do?”

~~~~~

Staring into the trees ahead of you, you remained frozen in place. 

The party had died down and dispersed about an hour ago, giving you and your companions plenty of time to perform a quick cleanup and head to bed. And just as Astarion had said, once a peaceful quiet had enveloped the camp, he’d come to your tent and wordlessly motioned for you to follow him. 

Now you were wringing your hands, trying to convince yourself to follow after him into the forest.

Karlach was right: you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to do. And Astarion was a reasonable guy. 

To a degree.

Okay, no he wasn’t. 

He was always prepared to kill someone who wronged him in an instant. But surely he’d be reasonable in this department. Your gut told you that that was true. And if it wasn’t, you’d sicc Karlach and the others on him. 

You knew it wouldn’t come to that, though. You felt strongly that he was the type who wouldn’t react rashly to a rejection. 

Before you’d even made up your mind to do so, you found yourself walking into the trees, following the general direction you’d seen Astarion head off towards. The least you could do was hear him out. And who knew, maybe this would be a funny anecdote in your friendship later on down the line. Only time would tell.

It took a few minutes of mindless wandering before you reached a clearing. You kept going, prepared to keep walking until you eventually found Astarion, when you spotted him emerging from behind a tree in your peripheral. 

You screeched to a halt and turned to face him, growing stiff with nerves when you realized he was shirtless. 

“There you are,” he said, his hand lingering on the tree behind him. “I’ve been waiting.” 

He approached you slowly. 

Seductively. 

You stood completely still.

He continued, “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.”

You swallowed thickly.

He moved even closer. “Waiting to have you.”

“About that,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady, “what exactly do you mean?”

Astarion’s sensual expression morphed into one of confusion. Then he laughed a little. “Isn’t it obvious? Tonight is about pleasure.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” you muttered.

While you were pretty sure he heard you, Astarion pressed on anyway. 

“Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

“Astarion,” you said quickly, surging forward to grab his hands in yours, “please.”

He looked surprised, but quickly recovered with an alluring smirk. “Please what, darling?”

“We don’t have to.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Don’t have to what?”

You groaned and leaned your head forward to rest on his bare shoulder. After a second you lifted your face back up to look at him. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

This time, Astarion looked stunned. “Then… what are you doing here?” 

You shrugged. “I thought we could talk.”

Astarion pulled away from you and took a step back. “‘Talk?’ I thought we had an understanding?”

“See, that’s the thing,” you said, “I did not understand.”

“Hmm,” he hummed and tilted his head in disbelief.

“I’m serious,” you said, stepping closer to him again. “I thought you wanted to spend time together.”

“Oh, but I do,” his lips quirked up mischievously. “I mean to spend the entire night with you, my dear.”

“And while that sounds great, I think you and I are having different thoughts about how to spend that time.” You held his gaze, willing him to hear you.

He humphed. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“Not right now, no.”

He sputtered his lips together and threw his arms up. “And what does that mean?”

“It means… It means I don’t want to have sex right now. At all.” You watched his face scrunch in incredulity. “It has nothing to do with you!” you clarified, grabbing one of his hands again. “Believe me, this is all me.”

Astarion looked you up and down, scanning your body language. You still held his hand and leaned into him ever so slightly. 

“What’s this then?” he asked, placing his free hand over the hand holding his.

You pulled away from him completely. “Sorry,” you said, “I end up touching the people I like. I don’t realize I’m doing it.”

He narrowed his eyes, putting the pieces together in his head. 

“You like me.”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want to sleep with me.”

“Yes.”

“So… what? You want to be friends or something?” He made a sour expression.

You laughed softly. “I’d like to think we’re already friends, actually.”

“And why would you think that?” Astarion asked, but you saw in his eyes that he was teasing.

You smiled lightly. “Maybe because you won’t stop following me around Faerûn?”

“Well, it’s not like I-”

“Or maybe because you’ve had a taste of my blood and now you can’t get enough?”

“Okay, that’s-”

“Or maybe because Karlach said you treat me differently than you treat everyone else.”

“She did not!” Astarion sounded genuinely scandalized and you laughed.

“Face it, pretty boy, you like me, too.”

Astarion groaned and rolled his eyes. “This is not at all going how I planned.”

You pursed your lips and wrapped your arms around yourself again. “Sorry.”

He glanced back at you and saw you staring at the ground. He sighed. 

“No, I’m sorry, darling.”

You met his eyes. He stepped closer and placed his hands on your cheeks. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch. 

“I assumed you wanted the same thing as me, and I was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Still,” he said, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek, “I misread your touches as advances rather than…” He searched for the proper words. “One of your quirks.”

You exhaled, amused. “You didn’t entirely misread me.”

“Pardon?”

“I do like you. A lot. And if things were different, maybe I would sleep with you, but…”

Astarion pulled away from you and held up a hand. “No explanation needed, darling.” He smirked. “But it's good to know how you feel.”

You felt your cheeks go red. “Yeah,” you said, suddenly shy.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “You’re so adorable when you’re thinking of what to say.”

You shook your head and patted your cheeks. “I have another idea,” you said.

He nodded for you to continue and crossed his arms.

“Um… if it’s alright with you, I…” You paused, not exactly sure how he’d react. 

“What is it, darling?”

“I’d like to… bathe you.”

Astarion uncrossed his arms and looked rather dumbfounded.

“What?”

Your words came out clumsily and a little too fast: “Or not! I don’t know, I just like you so much, and I’d like to be closer to you but I don’t want to have sex with you so I thought maybe we could get closer another way, or maybe-”

“Okay,” Astarion interrupted.

“Huh?”

He moved closer to you and brushed some hair out of your face.

“Okay,” he repeated softly. “Let’s bathe together.”

“Oh,” you said, disbelief painting your features. 

Astarion laughed. “Did you assume I’d say no?”

You shrugged as a smile grew on your face. “I don’t know what I expected,” you reached for his hand, “but I’m really glad you said yes.”

~~~~~

The walk back to camp was pleasantly silent, save for the crickets singing their nightly aria. Astarion kept pace with you, the back of your hands brushing every so often, each time sending a tiny shock wave through your body. 

This was happening. You were going to have a private, intimate moment with Astarion. Even if it hadn’t been what he originally intended, you were happy to think of a compromise that still allowed you to get close to him in a way that you knew the others in camp hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t. It made you feel special.

Happy.

And nervous. 

Nervous as all hells, to be honest. You felt your heart speeding up with every step you took, bringing you closer to camp.

“Something wrong, darling?” Astarion asked, giving you a sideways glance.

You jumped a little when his voice broke the silence. “Huh?”

“Your heart, love. It’s pounding.” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly. “Nervous?”

“Oh, that.” You held a hand to your chest and focused on slowing your breathing. When you turned to look at him, you asked, “Is that weird?”

“Seeing as how this was your suggestion, maybe a little.” He smiled and nudged his shoulder into yours.

You groaned. “If this is too weird, let’s just not.”

Astarion halted and grabbed your wrist to stop you. He spun you to look into his eyes. “Whatever’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, darling, cut it out.”

“Oh, okay great. Done.”

“Really?”

“No, not really!” You narrowed your eyes at him.

He sighed. “Never is that easy, is it?”

It was a rhetorical question, but you shook your head anyway. 

“Well, whatever’s making you nervous, I’ll strive to steer clear of it.”

He looked at you expectantly, as if he wanted some sort of explanation. You avoided his eyes and moved to continue walking towards camp. He followed close behind.

“It’s just that…” you paused, trying to collect your thoughts. “I haven’t been… naked in front of someone. For a while.”

Astarion bit his lip, mirth in his eyes.

“Don’t laugh!” you exclaimed, mortified.

“No, no, darling!” His tone was gleeful. “Apologies. It’s just that that’s what’s making you nervous? I’ll have you know that you’re one of the more beautiful creatures who I’ve attempted to bed. You have nothing to fear. I’ve seen all manner of bodies and I can assure you, yours will be nothing short of exquisite. In fact, your shyness is rather endearing.” He smiled at you, looking like he might still be withholding a laugh.

You flattened your lips into a line. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” You began walking ahead of him but stopped when you heard him call your name.

“I may be a rake and a thief, but I’m no liar.”

You blinked at him. “Yes you are! You lie all the time!”

“Okay, yes, sure, but I don’t lie about things that matter! Things like this!” He motioned up and down, indicating your body.

Just as he did so, the two of you emerged from the trees and into camp. You held a finger to your lips and indicated for him to be quiet. He nodded and padded after you as you crept quietly towards the shore of the lake that lapped quietly next to your sleeping campsite. You bent to pick up towels, along with the bucket that held soap and other washing supplies that you and your companions shared in an effort to stay clean on the road. You held them up and motioned for Astarion to follow you again, away from where Withers stoically kept watch, and more towards where you’d spoken with Wyll earlier in the evening. When you turned to face Astarion, his eyes were full of questions.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” you asked.

He perked up and grinned. “My love, there is nothing I’d like more.”

You searched his eyes one more time to make sure he was serious. When you were satisfied with what you saw, you motioned for him to step into the lake. 

“Ladies first,” you teased, looking anywhere but at Astarion.

He, in turn, looked down his nose at you. “I know what this is,” he said, pointing a lazy finger at you.

“What’s what?”

“You’re stalling, darling.”

“I am not!”

Astarion crossed his arms and tilted his head towards you, unimpressed.

Your posture fell into a slouch. “Okay fine, maybe I am stalling.”

“Really?” Astarion said dramatically before dropping his arms to his sides again. He approached you, close enough to where you could feel his cool breath on your face. 

He placed both of his hands on your hips. You looked down to watch as his fingers drummed a calming rhythm into your sides. He whistled quietly, gaining your attention. 

“Let’s start here,” he suggested, now fingering the hem of your shirt. He refused to let you look away. 

You nodded.

“Good,” he purred as you raised your arms and helped him take off your shirt. 

The cool air of the evening immediately sent goosebumps down your arms, and you unconsciously crossed them over your chest for warmth.

Astarion tsked. “Come now,” he protested and placed two gentle hands on your wrists, guiding them to your sides. “Lovely,” he praised once he was able to look at you. 

You made an uncomfortable sound before placing your hands on your waistband. 

“These probably need to come off next, right?”

“Typically that’s how one bathes themself, yes.”

“Right,” you agreed, watching as Astarion mirrored you and reached for his own waistband. You looked down at your legs as you removed your pants, leaving you in only your underwear. 

“Goodness, love,” Astarion said quietly and you looked at him shyly. He himself was now only in his underwear. “You have nothing to be shy about. You’re magnificent.”

“Would you shush and get into the water please?” you half teased, half begged. Anything  to end this weird tension you were feeling. 

“Alright,” he laughed softly before reaching for the waistband of his underwear. He looked at you for approval. When you nodded, he removed them in one fluid motion as if he’d done this a million times. Maybe he had.

Regardless, you couldn’t help but stare at the space between his legs.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Eyes up here.”

“Sorry,” you said, immediately flicking your eyes up to his face. “I didn’t- It’s just-”

Astarion chuckled. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Your turn,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

You bit your lip and slowly reached for your underwear. When you pulled them off, Astarion watched you without a hint of judgment in his eyes. You ran a hand through your hair and shifted nervously on your feet. 

He held out a hand to you and you stared at it before looking up at his face. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going in this frigid water alone, are you mad?”

You laughed and took his hand. He instantly pulled your body to his, holding you so that you were chest to chest. He gave you a seductive smirk before leaning in. You leaned away, avoiding his advances. You shook your head ever so slightly before stepping into the gentle water. Astarion remained standing on the shore before following after you. 

Braving the cold of the water, you sunk down until you were sitting in neck deep water. You let the bucket you’d brought with you float next to you as Astarion crept through the water, clearly freezing. 

“Why did I let you convince me to bathe at night? There’s no sun out to warm this wretched lake.”

You ducked your mouth below the surface to blow some bubbles in his direction. “You should know by now that dunking your whole body helps you warm up faster.”

He gave you a dirty look before slowly sinking down in front of you, yelping and contorting his face the entire time. You couldn’t help but squawk out a laugh. 

When he was fully seated, he pulled you towards him, making you sit in his lap. He gave you a sensual look that had you frowning and pulling back. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“When I said I wanted to bathe you, that’s all I meant.”

“Ah.” His tone was confused. Then he shook his head. “Right, sorry. This is - well… you know.” He smiled, looking like he was admitting defeat and that he wasn’t pleased about it. “I have no idea what to do with you.”

You swam behind him, pulling the bucket of soap towards you and laying your hands on both of his shoulders. “You don’t have to do anything.”

He spun to face you. “Nothing?”

You nodded and he huffed out a laugh. “No sex, no fooling around…I’m sorry, darling. It’s just - having to slow down, it’s… I’m just not used to it.” 

“That’s okay,” you rested your hands on his shoulders again. “We’re in no rush.”

He hummed. “Can you… I don’t know. Help? Show me what to do?”

Laughing, you took his hand. “I’ll try.”

You led your weightless bodies into shallower water and had Astarion sit facing away from you, towards the shore. Reaching for the bucket again, you pulled out a bar of soap and a sponge. 

“Relax,” you cooed, seeing how tensely he held his shoulders close to his ears. 

He let loose a breath and you watched as he relaxed his muscles. Your eyes traveled lower, suddenly catching a glimpse of a complicated and gruesome scar on his back. Your eyes widened, taking in how the water and moonlight reflected off of it. Calmly, you dipped the sponge in the water and added soap before gently rubbing his right shoulder. Astarion melted further, allowing his neck to tilt forward, which, in turn, gave you a better view of his scarred flesh.

“Um… Is it okay for me to wash your back?” you hesitated in bringing the sponge across his shoulder and over his back to his other shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t - oh. I suppose you’re talking about the poem.” He barely looked over his shoulder at you.

“I’ve never seen a poem like this,” you said quietly, a hint of anger in your voice.

He chuckled darkly in response. “It’s a gift from my old master, Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. Do you like it, darling?” He shimmied his shoulders, mockingly preening over the evidence of his own torment.

“Not at all,” you said evenly, continuing to wash his shoulders. 

“Ouch, love, you’d hurt his feelings if he heard that.” Not a hint of joy reached his eyes.

“I don’t much care about the feelings of this old master of yours.”

“Oh, be still, my undead heart,” he held a hand to his chest sarcastically. Then he sighed. “You’re allowed to wash it. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” His voice was quiet when he said, “Thank you for asking.”

Wordlessly, you moved the sponge from the back of his neck to his shoulder blades. 

“I’m not going to break,” he laughed softly, “you don’t have to be so gentle.”

You increased the pressure you were applying to his skin before adding more soap to the sponge. “Move up a little,” you instructed, tapping him to move closer to the shore. “Lean forward.”

Now you had a better angle to wash away the grime of the road from his back, and an even better view of the scar. You clicked your tongue and set to work. 

Perhaps uncomfortable by your silence, Astarion began to speak again. “He, Cazador, composed and carved that poem over the course of a night.” There was a venom to his words. Maybe a deep regret, or a weighing sadness. “He made a lot of revisions as he went.”

Your hand paused over a particularly brutal ridge. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against the raised tissue. “You’re brave for enduring that.”

“What are you doing?” Astarion straightened, making you push your cheek further into his skin. 

You pulled back immediately. “Sorry, I wanted to hug you. I should have asked. I just… wanted you to know that I care.”

Astarion looked over his shoulder at you blankly. “You ‘care?’”

You nodded. “Turn back around, let me keep washing you.”

He gave you a slight nod before facing forward again and leaning over. 

After another silent moment of gliding the sponge across his back, you asked, “Any idea what it means? Or is it just some pattern?”

Astarion let out an unamused laugh. “Hells if I know. Not sure how much you know about vampires, darling, but typically, we can’t see our reflections.” He spoke as if talking to a child. 

You splashed his back with a small wave from your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“You’re lashing out at me when I was just asking a question.”

“I-” He paused. Then he fell silent.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped but… I’m not your enemy,” you said gently. “We don’t have to keep talking about this. We don’t have to talk at all.”

Astarion groaned. “Silence is dreadful, darling.”

“Is that why you never stop talking?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Good one,” he said flatly, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “I only talk because you lot never have anything interesting to say.”

You scoffed with a smile. “I have plenty of interesting things to say!”

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Like-” you thought for a moment. “Like the other day! When I was talking with you about your embroidery!” By now you’d moved on to washing over Astarion’s arms. You spun him to face you so you could wash and massage his hands. 

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Unfortunately, darling, that’s not an entirely interesting topic, seeing as how I was in the middle of mending a shirt and you just wanted an excuse to talk to me.”

“I did not!” you denied, massaging between his fingers. Unconsciously, his fingers curled around yours before retracting and flexing. 

“Deny all you want, you still didn’t say anything interesting.”

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “If I’m so uninteresting, why did you want to spend the evening with me of all people?” You were massaging his other hand. 

“You-” He paused again.

“I?”

“You’re… I’m still trying to figure you out.” His voice grew softer when you pulled yourself closer to wash across his chest. You sensed the shift and looked up at his face to make sure he was okay with your actions. When he nodded minutely, you continued. 

“If you’re trying to figure me out… one might say that you’re interested in me.”

He groaned. “Say whatever you want to help you sleep better tonight, darling.”

“Uh huh,” you said pleasantly to yourself, feeling like you’d won. You looked away to add more soap to the sponge and when you looked back, you realized how close you were to his face. His pupils were blown wider than usual and you could see yourself reflected in his eyes against the moonlight. His breath tickled your face. 

He watched you with an intensity that had you hesitating. Why was he so-?

“Look up,” you said, looking up yourself to demonstrate what you wanted. “Please.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could before looking up at the sky. 

You carefully brushed the sponge along his throat, pausing briefly when you got to the twin wounds on his throat from the night he was turned. You circled them gently with the sponge before rinsing the suds with water cupped in your hand. A shiver ran through Astarion’s body.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said looking back down at you once you’d finished rinsing the suds away. “But I’d very much like to kiss you.”

You blinked a few times before resting your forehead against his. When you pulled back, you asked, “Is it okay for me to wash your hair?”

Astarion looked at you for a moment, his eyes flicking to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. “I suppose so,” he said.

“I don’t have to. Your legs are still-”

“I can handle my own lower half, thank you.” He winked at you.

You smiled and handed him the sponge before bringing yourself to rest behind him again. You gathered the bucket that was still floating nearby and submerged it until it was filled about halfway with water.

“You can either dunk yourself, or I can pour this over your head,” you held the bucket for Astarion to see.

“I’m actually quite enjoying you taking care of me, darling. I trust you won’t drown me.”

“A mistake,” you said, pretending to dump the bucket over his head all at once. “Can vampires even drown? It’s not like you need to breathe.”

“I’d rather not find out, if it’s all the same to you,” he smirked. 

Instead of dumping the entire bucket on his head like you threatened, you poured a gentle stream along the back of his skull before moving forward to evenly wet the rest of his hair. 

“Bloody hells, that is cold,” he pushed some flattened curls out of his face.

“For being a fearsome vampire, you sure are a wimp,” you teased. 

“I could rip your throat out.”

“And I might be able to drown you.” You placed firm hands on both his shoulders and pushed gently, as if you wanted to test your theory. 

“Terrifying,” he smirked, running the sponge along his legs underwater.

“You should see what I did to those goblins who were holding Halsin hostage.”

Astarion laughed. “I know, darling, I was there. Who knew you could be so hellbent on vengeance?”

You laughed softly, coating your hands in soap before running them through his curls. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Like?” he prompted.

“Astarion!” you exclaimed sarcastically. “You want to know more about me?”

“Well if I knew you’d make a fuss, I wouldn’t have said anything.” Despite his tone, his eyes were closed in pleasure as you continued to massage his scalp. 

You chuckled quietly, trying to think of something to share with him. 

“I’ve lived in Baldur’s Gate my whole life,” you started.

“A shame we never crossed paths.”

“I’m not entirely sure you’d spare me a passing glance.”

Astarion opened his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

You shrugged. “I read a lot, growing up, and liked being indoors. But I also liked the outdoors. I helped my dad tend our garden, and helped my mom cook dinner–”

“How quaint.”

“We’d visit my aunt in the Upper City every Midwinter, and I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up.” 

“Pity, you have such a promising career as a spa keeper.”

You examined Astarion’s head to make sure you hadn’t missed a spot. When you were pleased with your own work, you continued: “This is the first big adventure I’ve ever been on.”

“First brain worm?” Astarion opened one eye and pointed to his temple.

You laughed and nodded. 

He smiled. “Mine, too.”

You filled the bucket with more water and held a hand over his forehead to keep soapy water from splashing into his eyes when you poured the fresh water over his foamy locks. 

Astarion sighed as the soap began to wash away. You filled the bucket again to repeat the process. 

“Did you ever foresee yourself bathing a beautiful vampire, when you were a child?”

You pursed your lips. “I mean, I had my hopes.” You smiled as he let out a laugh. 

“Tonight definitely didn’t go how I expected,” he admitted.

“You didn’t foresee yourself getting bathed by your incredibly interesting leader?”

He let out an amused breath from his nose. “No I did not.”

You finished rinsing out the last of the soap from his hair, but continued raking your fingers through it. “Are you disappointed?” Your voice was small.

He turned to face you, making your hands disconnect from his curls. “Not at all,” he said, sounding genuine. “Pleasantly surprised, actually.” He thought for a moment. “And cleaner than I’ve been in weeks. Probably.”

You laughed. “Happy to have provided my services.”

He smiled at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “This was nice.” He lifted his hand to swipe through his hair. “Let’s hope you didn’t ruin my hair.”

“With soap and water?”

“You might have done it wrong,” he teased.

“How? It’s soap and water!”

“Not so loud,” he chuckled, nodding his head towards camp. You could vaguely hear Gale snoring in the distance. 

“I’m leaving,” you joked, moving to get up, but Astarion grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into the water.

“Am I not to return the favor?”

You looked back at him and half smiled, patting his cheek. “I’m not convinced you’d do a thorough enough job.” With that, you pushed away from him and got up, gathering the bathing materials and walking back to shore where towels awaited. 

Astarion sputtered behind you. “How dare you! I could give you a massage, the likes of which you’ve never experienced before!”

“You know, sometimes, Astarion, people do things for other people, and don’t want anything in return.” You threw the towel over your head to start drying your hair before wrapping it around your body. 

Astarion did the same before bending to pick up your discarded clothes. “I- Well… You-” He sighed heavily. “You’re a tricky one, aren’t you?”

“I’m not trying to be,” you shrugged.

“And yet,” he sidled up next to you, offering you his arm, “you are.” 

You took his arm in one hand and the bucket of washing supplies in the other and followed him as he led you back into camp. You placed the materials back where you found them and brought your newly freed hand up to wrap around Astarion’s arm. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. 

When you arrived at your tent, he handed you your clothes. 

“I suppose this is where we end our evening,” he said quietly so as not to wake the others.

“I suppose so,” you agreed, your eyes shining as you looked at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Thank you for letting me do that,” you said, still holding his arm. “I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“I did,” he said. “Very much, actually.” When he saw the excited look on your face, he amended, “Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not weird,” you said, weirdly.

“Uh huh,” Astarion said, pulling his arm out of your grip, not unkindly.

“We can do it again,” you bobbed on your feet, “if you want.”

“I… could be persuaded,” he nodded.

“Good,” you said. Then you surged forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. Goodnight Astarion.” You turned and ducked down into your tent.

“Pleasant dreams, darling,” he said softly. 

You didn’t see how his hand lingered on his cheek where your lips had made contact, didn’t see the small smile that crept onto his face or the mask beginning to slip. 

Instead, you had pleasant dreams filled with laughs and curls and a flash of fangs accompanied by a smile of delight. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I don’t know if you’ve already covered this, but I had a question to ask about the VDC in Book 5. To clarify, I understand that RSA needed to win for thematic and character arc purposes, and that in-lore it was an audience vote not a professional one. The story beats line up. But the choice of cutesy and childlike RSA performance over the more refined and professional NRC performance still doesn’t quite click with me. Is there some kind of cultural difference that didn’t translate to explain why one performance was supposed to be understood as preferred over the other? Even if it was an audience vote, the standards should be higher just by virtue of this being a big name competition for teenagers held at a prestigious school.

Very quickly, I want to add a couple other points that help to explain why RSA won over NRC! Book 6 opens early on with Vil noting that NRC was not able to perform as well as they wanted to since they had just come out of a difficult battle against his OB form. (Because of this, he accepts responsibility for their loss.) Thus, the NRC performance may not have actually been as "refined", "professional", or as polished as we imagine it to be.

Additionally, it’s stated in book 5 that RSA’s song choice had universal appeal whereas NRC’s did not. We see this effect on the production crew when Neige and the Seven Dwarves do their practice run; their performance has a refreshing and soothing effect on what appears to be an older audience (as it plays to their nostalgia); we must consider this when evaluating RSA and NRC. For example, I know that I really disliked NRC's performance (sue me/j) because it sounded very oppressive and therefore unrelatable to me. The lyrics are literally about how NRC will dominate their opponents and win 😭 Sure, the music and lyrics for Neige's song aren't complex, but they're at the very least accessible and easy to follow along with. (That's not to say that I prefer RSA's performance though; I'm just explaining why someone might not find NRC's performance appealing.)

Lastly! We as players are looking at the two song + dance numbers from an omniscient perspective. We need to consider our own biases when judging, and accept that it may differ from the characters in-universe view things. Maybe you prefer NRC’s performance. That’s fair! But how much of that is informed by your personal music preferences? And how much of that comes from your attachment to the NRC characters, since you’ve followed their stories up until this point? As Rook points out in book 5, he’s aware of how hard NRC has worked to get here… but he’s also aware of Neige’s hardships too (er, in terms of his lifestyle; ie living with the dwarves and doing chores, etc.). Consider then, would you honestly not have a bias for RSA had Twisted Wonderland’s story centered on them instead of NRC?

It’s also worth noting that how things are seen in Twisted Wonderland may reflect its own unique culture rather than how we in the real world may perceive it. Maybe the people of Twisted Wonderland just prefer a cute, nostalgic performance. This may not necessarily correlate with west or east at all and that has always been a possibility! (While TWST does take inspirations from the real world, it’s not a 1:1 with the real world.)

dkhlbaiyfadvfoad Okay, NOW onto the actual question being pitched!

When you look at media from different countries, there are some stark differences in how the same information is presented. One example is like... any Gordon Ramsay show yes, I am using him as an example. Compare the American cut and the British cuts; there are much more loud sound effects, dramatic music, yelling, and cussing in the American cuts. The British cuts, by comparison, are notably quieter and contemplative, with hardly any cursing. Another example! Looking at variety shows from the east vs the west, they're quite different as well. Eastern variety shows tend to be "cute", usually using various cute sound effects or edits which make the guests appear more bashful (like drawing blush over their cheeks or something). We don't see this in western TV shows, which are louder and more boisterous. I've noticed a similar trend in the music industries of the east vs the west as well, where eastern stars tend to emphasize their youthfulness and playfulness and western stars try to be more "mature" and grown-up. These are just my personal observations and may not reflect reality, especially seeing as I am not involved in music-oriented spaces.

I asked friends and personal contacts in both eastern and western pop music fandom spaces for their own insights (which is also in no way representative of both fandoms, but at least this gives us other perspectives for consideration). To summarize, most of them replied that they did not think cultural differences account for this situation, since equating a preference for a "cute" aesthetic is not the same as RSA performing what is basically a nursery rhyme. There's no real-world equivalent for that (at least none that they can think of), and I agree with all of this. There’s really no point in trying to compare the two.

I remember lots of Japanese fans being upset at NRC’s loss too (when book 5’s ending was first put out), so the impression I got was they didn’t prefer the performance of RSA over NRC either. It was not just the international fandom that was disappointed. I don’t believe TWST ever intentionally set out to present “Everyone Yahoo!” as the “superior” song and dance number, or as the performance we’re supposed to like more than the other. It was very much framed as something pathetic and unlikely to win in most of the eyes of the NRC characters. They make fun of RSA’s clumsiness and claim it’ll be easy to win over them. The player most likely is supposed to think this way too—until Vil, the one with an eye for showbiz, realizes his loss. Why? Because it doesn’t matter what we think. What matters is how this clumsy performance will resonate with the common person.

What I think it ultimately comes down to is emotional appeal to the audience, which is more of a personal/individual level thing than a cultural thing. The competition is decided by audience vote. The average person honestly does not care about quality or standards. No one is giving them rules to evaluate by, no one is going to tell them off for not having strict standards. They will pick based on what they like best or whatever makes them feel good. And what will make anyone feel food, regardless of age, sex, race, education, socioeconomic status, etc.? Something cozy and familiar, thoughts of simpler times… Nostalgia.

Something else to think about is what a powerful motivator emotions can be. There are irl idol competition shows that are high stakes and decided by audience vote just like VDC/SDC… and people will still vote for their favorites even if they gave a technically bad performance. This is because fans are so emotionally invested in and attached to the performer. It doesn’t matter how “bad” they are, the performer/performance makes the audience member feel impassioned, and they will then act according to those intense feelings. Think about what you’re like when you’re in a terrible mood vs a good one. You act completely differently, right?

I hope that perspective helps! 🙏 I tried to be as thorough as I could be in this response, but please let me know if I misspoke or maybe missed a point.

P.S. I happen to be responding to this ask after TWST showed us the NRC Tribe’s dance performance in a MMD video. I wonder if this only made the “NRC should have own” crowd double down on that opinion since now we’re seeing just what their performance looks like 🤔 (though we don’t have a complete MMD video of Neige’s group to directly compare, just this which shows part of the dance and not in the same clumsy way that Neige and co. perform it).

[pastryleclerc]

je vais t'aimer

requested: yes/no

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader (one shot)

warnings: slow burn smut (the act itself is about two pages long, it's also my first!!), my bad english (and possibly bad writing), language, established bf/gf relationship, some fluff of charles and the reader making music together and being domestic towards the end, lots of text in between the lyrics - please imagine yourself singing in one go, reader is described to have brunette hair and blue eyes, mentions of death and dying, oral (fem and male receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!) but reader is said to be on the pill, cock warming if you squint, also slight breeding kink towards the end, please comment if you find anything else and i'll add it to the list

word count: 4.846 words (with lyrics), 4.352 words (without lyrics)

a/n: hello guys ��� finally it's here - my first fic! i truly can't believe that i wrote an almost seven page long one shot but here we are. 🤩 the inspiration for the fic was "je vais t'aimer" by louane from the movie "la famille bélier" (the original was sung by michel sardou) - go and give the song a listen if you can :) i've proofread the text but i'm sure there will be a few mistakes, especially when it comes to grammar and commas, since english is not my first language. also, i feel like the ending is a bit rushed. 😅 feel free to let me know what you think as feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome 🙏 if you can find the symbolism used in this, i'll give you a cookie 🍪 in addition to that there's a hint to one of my favorite shows - leave a comment if you know what it is 😉 (italics = lyrics, brackets = translations) - here we go, i hope you enjoy this :) | *"Tonnerre de Dieu" is an idiom meaning something like "Bloody hell!"

🔎 directions | 🔎 masterlist

The cool summer breeze coming through the window – which was left open after last night’s activities – softly grazed her skin. The warm sunrays that rested upon her eyelids awakened her slowly. It was an early Sunday morning in the Monégasque summer – almost too early for her liking – so she blinked a few times but ultimately decided to close her eyes again, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep. Trying to escape the rising sun she turned towards where she thought her lover would be laying, hoping to snuggle up to him while enjoying the last day of their free weekend. But when she reached out her warm, delicate hands, all she could feel were empty sheets that had started to become cold already, indicating that her boyfriend had been out of their shared bed for a while now. So much for staying in bed.

Slowly Y/N sat up, letting out a yawn while stretching her arms above her head. By doing so, her own sheets slipped down her body, uncovering her very naked breasts. She sighed to herself, memories of the previous night came flashing back shortly, making her miss the brunette boy even more. Her heart yearned for him, thinking about the love and intimacy they shared. So the young woman made it her mission to find her other half. She swung her legs over the edge of their shared bed – her warm feet meeting the cold floor – and walked into her adjacent closet, fishing a fresh pair of panties out of the drawer. Forgoing putting on any more clothes, she went back into the bedroom and picked up the shirt her boyfriend wore yesterday and slipped it on. She tried to open the door as silent as possible, already hearing the faint sounds of a piano, and went to the top step of the staircase. From there the young woman could see her boyfriends bare back as he played the keys with his delicate fingers. Y/N noticed how the muscles of his back, moved with the rhythm he created, absolutely mesmerizing her. She couldn’t believe how such a beautiful man was truly hers and decided to watch him a little longer before making her way downstairs with the softest steps she could possibly muster as to not make him aware of her presence.

Charles Leclerc was up early. He didn’t understand why, as it was his weekend off and he had stayed up late the night before – he should be exhausted. Looking to his left, he saw his girlfriend and smiled at her sleeping form. His heart tugged at it’s strings at how filled it was with love for Y/N. His mind remembering the events of the night before. The look in her eyes gave her own love for him away, as he deeply stared into them while making sweet love to her. Their foreheads stuck together as they exchaged words of affection, some more dirty than others. For a second the young racing driver thought about waking the woman beside him up to take care of his now throbbing member but ultimately decided to not disturb her peaceful slumber. The brunette leaned over and gave his girlfriend a soft kiss on the forehead before he slowly, as careful as possible, sat up in bed and let out a yawn. He started to look for his boxers that should have been left somewhere in the room. When the Monégasque had found them he stood up and tip toed to the piece of clothing, which was laying by the bed post, and put it on. Before Charles left the room, he turned around once more and took one last look at the sleeping woman in their shared bed – half smiling at the sight – and made his way downstairs to work on his music.

Long arms snaked around his torso and a kiss was pressed to his neck. „Good morning, mon amour,“ his girlfriend whispered sweetly in his ear. If he didn’t know what music sounded like, he’d probably say this might have been it – the angelic voice of the woman he loved. Charles body automatically leaned back in her arms and he rested his head on her shoulder. „Morning, mon cœur.“ he smirked at her, squinting his eyes while he looked at her. She kissed his stubbly cheek, her left arm moved to lay over his exposed chest: „Why are you awake already? I’ve missed you.“ The older man shook his head slightly and he was able to smell his girlfriends hair: „Couldn’t sleep anymore I guess.“ Y/N hummed in response. „So you decided to leave me all alone and replaced me with your piano?“ She mumbled in her lovers neck and left a hickey. Charles hissed. „You found me after all, didn’t you? How about you join me?“ He slid to the left and patted the now free space on the bench. The woman behind him grinned and wrapped her fragile fingers around his firm chin, turning his head to look up at her. Their eyes met, completely enamoured with one another. Slowly both started to lean in until their lips finally touched for their first official good morning kiss on this early Sunday morning. The drivers hand moved to lay on her neck, deepening the kiss as both of them let out a sigh. He took it as his opportunity to slip his tongue between his girlfriends parted lips, making out with her some more, until she pushed him back slightly by his chin. „I thought you had asked if I wanted to join you?“ Y/N smirked at Charles and got the biggest smile out in response, showing off his beautiful teeth. „That I did!“ His opposite giggled and gave him on last kiss on the cheek.

She moved away from him and sat on the bench to his right hand side. Turning his head to look at her, he asked her: „Would you like to sing for me?“, knowing she had the most beautiful singing voice in the world (but don’t tell George he said that, he’d fight him for his life trying to defend Lewis). Her head now turned to look at him too: „I’d love that. Can I make a wish.�� Charles heart skipped a beat at her question and he stared at her as if she hung the moon, the sun and all of his stars. „You don’t even have to ask, you know I’d fulfill you all your wishes without a second thought.“ The young womans eyes got teary hearing those words from her lover of two years, knowing he loved her as much as she loved him. „Je vais t’aimer, mon beau.“ Her boyfriends wrinkled as his lips spread out into a smile: „Toi aussi, ma belle.“ „No, idiot, the song from ‚La famille Bélier‘.“ She laughed loudly, infecting the other Monégasque with it’s brightness and who soon joined her, shaking his head. „I knew that of course.“ Smirking, Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing full well he didn’t. Charles eyed her from the side and cleared his throat while cracking his knuckles, before his warm fingers touched the cold piano tiles again to form the opening notes oft he 1976 tune.

À faire pâlir tous les Marquis de Sade (To make all the Marquis de Sade pale)

À faire rougir les putains de la rade (To make the whores blush in the harbor)

À faire crier grâce à tous les échos (To be shouted through all the echoes)

À faire trembler les murs de Jéricho (To shake the walls of Jericho)

Je vais t′aimer (I will love you)

Y/N tried not to look at Charles while singing the all too familiar song but she couldn’t help it. He was just so gorgeous. The way his fingers moved across the tiles amazed her, watching his forearms flex while doing so. A simple yet so effective move, which – in a dangerous mix with the obscene lyrics coming out of her mouth - went straight down to her core.

À faire flamber des enfers dans tes yeux (To make hell blaze in your eyes)

À faire jurer tous les tonnerres de Dieu (To make all the thunders of God swear*)

À faire dresser tes seins et tous les Saints (To have your breasts and all the saints raise)

À faire prier et supplier nos mains, je vais t'aimer (To make us pray and beg our hands I will love you)

His cheeks reddened hearing her sing those lewd words which were meant to be for him only at this very moment. Her hand touched his biceps, moving up and down, and it sent cold shivers down his back straight to his dick. He loved sharing such intimate moments with her, just the two of them – sometimes they watched a movie, other times, like today, they made some music together – but as soon as her long fingers moved across his naked skin, he always knew he was gone for and there was only one way this would end. And she knew it too.

Je vais t′aimer comme on ne t'a jamais aimée (I’m going to love you like you’ve never been before)

Je vais t'aimer plus loin que tes rêves ont imaginé (I’m going to love you further than your dreams have imagined)

Je vais t′aimer, je vais t′aimer (I’m going to love you, I’m going to love you)

Je vais t'aimer comme personne n′a osé t'aimer (I will love you like no one has dared to love you)

Je vais t′aimer comme j'aurai tellement aimé être aimé (I will love you as I would have loved to be loved)

Je vais t′aimer, je vais t'aimer (I’m going to love you, I’m going to love you)

The young woman put her head on her boyfriends shoulder while singing, as she moved the hand – which was wrapped around his biceps – to the veins on his forearm and finally landing on his right thigh. Slowly she caressed the exposed skin, making the bulge in his underwear grow. The air between the two lovers became thicker with sexual tension second by second. Charles just really wanted to hear her sweet voice sing but now he was about to hear even better sounds coming out of her mouth and her teasing showed just how close she was to giving him herself all over again. And he loved every bit of it.

À faire vieillir, à faire blanchir la nuit (To age, to whiten the night)

À faire brûler la lumière jusqu'au jour (Burning the light until the day)

À la passion et jusqu′à la folie (To passion and to the point of madness)

Je vais t′aimer, je vais t'aimer d′amour (I will love you, I will love you with love)

À faire cerner, à faire fermer nos yeux (To be identified, to close our eyes)

À faire souffrir, à faire mourir nos corps (To make us suffer, to kill our bodies)

À faire voler nos âmes aux septièmes cieux (To make our bodies fly into seventh heaven)

À se croire morts et faire l'amour encore, je vais t′aimer (To think you’re dead and make love again, I’m going to love you)

The words sung perfectly described the love they shared for one another. They were each other light in the darkness of this world, especially Y/N for Charles. She was his anchor and saving grace whenever he had a bad race and she was there for him through it all – the ups and downs of racing ever since they had been kids, the deaths of his father and Jules, the travelling, the distance, the winning, the losing and everything in between. Everytime they had sex it felt like the very first time. And everytime they finished it felt like they had died and gone to heaven. He was excited to feel this way again and he knew she felt the same way. Their passion for one another almost exceeding the point of madness where they couldn’t go long without seeing, touching and talking to each other and not turning crazy about it. Charles and Y/N burned for each other- their love a blazing flame that never seemed to die – they were the bane of each others existence and the objects of all their desires and wildest dreams. For the last chorus the young woman let all of those feelings out and every word was meant only for her Monégasque lovers ears – the one man she ever wanted to spend her forever and beyond with.

Je vais t'aimer comme on ne t′a jamais aimée (I’m going to love you like you’ve never been loved)

Je vais t'aimer plus loin que tes rêves ont imaginé (I’m going to love you further than your dreams have imagined)

Je vais t'aimer, je vais t′aimer (I’m going to love you, I’m going to love you)

Je vais t′aimer comme personne n'a osé t′aimer (I will love you like no one has dared to love you)

Je vais t'aimer comme j′aurai tellement aimé être aimé (I will love you as I would have loved to be loved)

Je vais t'aimer, je vais t′aimer (I’m going to love you, I’m going to love you)

Charles fingers lingered on the piano, finishing the final note. They stayed silent for a little longer, letting the past few minutes catch up to them, the only sound being heard were their breaths that were in sync with each other – mirroring the rapid beating of their hearts. The woman moved her right hand from her boyfriends thigh and placed it upon his chest. „I love you, mon amour, thank you for letting me share this moment with you,“ she whispered in his ear and left a kiss right below it. The racing driver next to her turned slightly and put his hand on her cheek, his thumb caressing the warm skin. „Anytime again, ma belle.“ His dimples showed due to the soft smile that made it’s way to his face. And also his girlfriend couldn’t help but reach out for him, letting her hand linger on the side of his neck. The two of them knew what was about to happen, so Charles put his arm around Y/Ns waist, pulling her even closer (if that was possible) and their lips radiated towards each other, as if they were two magnets, finally reuniting in a breathtaking kiss.

When they broke apart, Y/N took the initiative and took her sweet time kissing down his body, leaving a few hickeys on the way – from his cheek, to his neck and his abs, until she ended up on her knees in front of the piano, facing Charles‘ crotch. Looking down on his girlfriend, he moaned her name: „Touches moi, s’il te plaît…“ Smirking at that, Y/N let her hands glid up his thigh. „Of course, baby boy, let me take care of you.“ Slowly she caressed his bulge while maintaining eye contact before dropping her head to leave some more kisses on his thighs. Then she moved her hand into his shorts and boxers to free his semi-hard dick. Charles shuddered when her cold fingers touched his warm dick and he bit his lip to keep in the moan he so badly wanted to let out. „Don’t hold back, baby, I wanna hear you. Show me how good I can make you feel.“ The girl encouraged him while stroking his hardening length. „Mon dieu…“, Charles whispered under his breath and threw his head back. At that she smirked and stuck out her tongue in order to lick a long stripe up the underside of her boyfriends dick, sucking on his tip where she left another kiss. The brunette driver locked eyes with his girlfriend who just swallowed his precum and continued to watch her as her mouth wrapped around his length again and went further and further to take him in fully. „Oh.“ His moan spurred her on and she started bobbing her head up and down, as her hand went to massage his balls. Charles so desperately wanted to keep focused on the woman in front of him but he ultimately lost control and fisted his hand in her hair, in order to form a makeshift ponytail and started pushing her head down on his dick harder. „Chérie - I’m gonna…“ His breathy voice got cut off by a groan he couldn’t hold back. As if his girlfriend could sense it, she had moaned on his dick and stroked his thick thighs, silently telling him to come in her mouth. A few seconds later Y/N heard Charles let out an especially loud moan and felt his sweet cum shoot down her throat. The young woman released his dick from her luscious lips with a loud „popp“ and opened her mouth to show Charles that she had swallowed it all. With hazy eyes he smirked down at his girlfriend and wrapped his hand around her chin, his thumb lightly stroking her cheek. „Good girl.“ He leaned down to leave a kiss on her forehead, then helped her stand on her two feet again. „Let me return the favor, amour.“

Charles stood up and deeply stared into his girlfriends eyes while slowly taking steps forward, backing her up into the piano. „Cha…“ Y/Ns voice was desperate and she closed her eyes as he reached out his hands. She waited for his touch, which never came. He closed the lid of the piano, then returned his attention to the smaller woman, his eyes so full of lust for her. His head bent down and he feverishly kissed her which she easily returned, their tongues exploring each others mouths, as if it was the first time they made out. The racing driver put his hands on her butt and softly kneaded the skin there, before leaving a slap on her right ass cheek, making her gasp loudly. „Jump.“ He said with his signature wink. Y/N did as she was told and wrapped her legs around his torso, as he sat her on top of the piano. „You look so good in my shirt. Much better than I ever did, ma jolie.“ His girlfriend giggled and his hands glid along her curves taking them all in. Charles kneeled down until his eyes were lined up with her ankles. He left the lightest kisses up her legs, alternating between the left and right one, while moving his hands up their sides. When his eyes were on the same level as her core he pulled her crotch closer to his face by her hips. „Ahh!“ A squeal left the girls lips as Charles took her by suprise. The latter laughed slighty. „Excuse-moi, Chérie.“ All was forgotten though when he kissed her cunt through her panties before he pulled them down. The excitement rose in his chest and he licked his lips, whereas his girlfriend felt a certain anticipation, wating for him to continue. Moving his face closer to her already dripping core he left a longing kiss on her clit, as his right hand came up to assist him – one of his fingers went in between her folds collecting her juices. „So wet for me already, bébé.“ He then wrapped his lips around his own finger, tasting her. „And so sweet.“ Y/N was in a state of pure bliss already, humming approvingly. „All for you, ma vie.“ Charles nodded. „Yes, all mine.“ The Monégasque started sucking on her clit again, acting as if his life essence is made up of the sweet sounds that escaped her throat. One of his fingers finally entered her, moving in and out in a steady rhythm that coordinated with the way his tongue moved along her clit. It felt as though she was his instrument: His fingers moved delicately inside of her, playing out a tune of moans mixing with the breathy calles of her name, truly showing his artistic skills aside from the piano. Two of his fingers were inside of her now, preparing the young woman for later, as he alternated between scissoring her hole and stroking her g-spot.

As Y/N felt her orgasm approach, her hands flew to her boyfriends fluffy hair, pulling on the loose curls. „Charlie, ne t’arrête pas!“ She moaned, feeling the tight knot in her lower stomach starting to loosen up. Spurred on by the soft massaging of her hands he moaned onto her clit. That was the last note missing in their steamy melody pulling the girl over the edge as she came with a loud scream of his name, squirting her juices into his mouth. He lapped at her lower lips, trying to collect all the juices he could get, before rising from his kneeling position. Her uneven breaths started to calm down again as she noticed the state of his chin through half-lidded eyes and let out a shaky laugh. „I’m so sorry, mon Chéri.“ Charles slightly leaned over her, moving his hand to her back, as he wrapped her right leg around his waist to pick her up and get her into a standing position in between him and the piano again. „No need to be sorry, mon ange. I enjoyed every second of it.“ At the second sentence his voice lowered an octave, accentuating every word into her ear. He nibbled on her earlobe moving down her neck, leaving a small hickey there. „Should we move this to the sofa for the big climax of our wonderful duet?“ He asked into her neck, knowing the couch was closer. „Yes, please.“ She breathed out, her head still thrown to the side, letting Charles have his access to her skin.

He took her hand in his and lead her to the other part of their living room. There, she regained some control when he turned around in order to kiss her, and she put her hand on his chest instead, pushing him back into the soft pillows. Charles smirked as he was under her spell once more. He patted his thighs and his girlfriend smiled, placing herself in her favorite seat, facing him. Once more the two lovers found themselves lost in each others eyes, before slowly leaning in, their lips meeting in a loving kiss, much softer than the ones before. Y/N moved her hands along his abs once more, moving over his bare chest to his toned shoulders. His own hands found their way to her wast, moving towards the hem of her – no, his – shirt, slowly lifting it above her head and throwing it somewhere behind him. The sudden cold air made her nipples harden, sending a shiver down her back. Charles smiled up at her – taking in all of her naked glory – and licked his lips in anticipation. His right hand moved to her breast, his lips latched around the other. „Ohh, Char…“ The young woman moaned and watched him suck on her tits. The fingers of his right hand fumbled with the small bud before he went to switch sides. Wanting to feel more of him, Y/N rubbed her body along his legs. Smirking, he removed himself from her boobs. „So impatient, ma jolie.“ His girlfriend laughed. „I mean, can you blame me? Everything about you turns me on immensly. Mon dieu, je t’aime tellement.“ The heat of her bare core meeting the cold skin of his thigh – he had already forgotten that her panties still layed somewhere by his piano – reminding him about the truthfulness of her statement. „Je t’aime aussi, mon cœur.“ The two stared lovingly at each other once more before the woman moved her hands down to the waistband of her boyfriends boxers – the only article of clothing left to separate their most intimate parts – and she couldn’t stand his advantage at all. „Take them off, baby.“ He smirked and tapped his hands on his girlfriends waist to signal her that she would have to get off him first. Y/N lifted her butt so that he could pull the garment down, letting them hang by his knees.

With his underwear out of the way, the woman above him slowly sunk down on his dick, stabilizing herself by putting her hands on his shoulders. At the feeling of Charles length entering her wet hole, they both let out long moans. „Putain!“ Y/N placed one of her hands on his cheek, making him look into her eyes – then she started to move. Slowly she lifted herself off him and sunk back down. The two lovers found a steady rhythm, their bodies creating a sweet melody once more. Charles hands wandered to his girlfriends ass, leaving a slap there before he kneaded the soft skin, soothing it in the process. His love let out a yelp and started to bounce on top of him faster. Her hands now rested on his waist, as she let her head fall to his neck, making her body lean on his. The new angle made both of them feel the movements more intensly – their breathy moans and husky groans filling the already sinful aria of skin slapping on skin to it’s full extent. „Chérie…“ the driver moaned into her ear, kissing his girlfriends shoulder. „Regarde-moi.“ Y/N lifted her head look at her boyfriend, who moved on of his hands to the back of her head, pulling her closer and locking their lips in a desperate and messy kiss. As they pulled away for air, both could feel their orgasms approaching. With his hand, Charles kept the woman close to him, the sweat on their foreheads mixing. „I’m so close.“ She deeply stared into his eyes, nodding frantically. „Moi aussi, Char.“ Then he steard to trust his hips up into hers, supporting her sloppier movements. Suddenly all the different components became too much for her to handle – from his hands on her body, his dick filling her wet core, to their erratic breaths conjoining in lazy, open-mouthed kisses - her body overstimulating as it reached it’s climax. The relieving wave washed over her and she came with a loud, high-pitched scream of her boyfriends name. Her walls clenched around his dick, sending Charles over the edge too, who let out a deep growl followed by a hitched cry of her nickname. The driver still held her body close as she collapsed on top of him and he started stroking her back in order to calm her down.

It felt like minutes before either of them moved again – the Monégasque just enjoying the feeling of her naked breasts on his skin, his partner listening to the sound of his beating heart. Charles even thought about taking her again, but that’s a thing that could wait until later. Right now, all he wanted to do was staying right here with her in his arms. But his girlfriend had other plans, as she was the first to sit up again. At the feeling of Charles dick still inside her both let out a groan, before laughing. „Merde, I almost forgot about that.“ Y/Ns hands caressed his cheeks as she dipped her head to leave a short but sweet kiss on his lips before she tried to lift herself off his length. She hissed at the feeling of the cold air of the living room hitting her warm entrance and noticed the way Charles cum dripped out of her hole. „Mmh, I love seeing that.“ The man in question stood up and pulled up his boxers before he stepped closer to his still very naked girlfriend again and held her close. „Can’t wait for when you don’t take the pill anymore. Gonna fill you up all nicely until you’re pregnant with our child, mon amour.“ He whispered seductively in her ear. The woman tried hard to keep her composure at his words, but the goosebumps on her skin gave her away. She wanted to have a child with him, as much as he wanted it, but only after they had gotten married. Leaving a last kiss on his lips before going off to search the shirt she was wearing earlier, she switched the topic while looking around the room with Charles following her around. „I’m starving, how about breakfast?“ Y/N smiled softly at Charles before putting on the piece of clothing, having found it laying behind the couch. „Oh yeah, let me help!“ The driver beamed as his girlfriend passed by the piano, picking up her panties, turning around afterwards to face her boyfriend – laughing at him. „Surely, ma vie, I’ll let you cut some veggies but that’s it, idiot.“ Charles jokingly rolled his eyes. „I’ll do anything, as long as it’s with you.“ She blushed at his words, softly hitting his chest with a wink. „Sweet.“ The two of them pulled back the curtains and opened the windows on the first floor of the apartment in order to let some fresh air in, before going to the kitchen to fix their brunch.

The two lovers spent the rest of their day cuddling on the couch, watching some movies and just enjoying each others company before ordering some takeout in the evening.

disclaimer: all work posted on here with this disclaimer was written by me. i do not consent this work to be published or translated on other sites than my own (@pastryleclerc on tumblr or wattpad). picture credits to their rightful owners

copyright: ©️ 2023 pastryleclerc on tumblr, all rights reserved

[trans-musicians]

Submit a trans musician!

Hello! I'm a genderless dyke in their 20s from the UK. My aim for this blog is to have as many talented transgender musicians listed all in one place. I want to create a resource for trans people to find others like themselves in every genre.

I mainly listen to punk / goth / metal, but I welcome submissions from any genre. When this blog is large enough I will add genre navigation and an alphabetised list of previously submitted musicians.

All musician's pronouns are based on what is submitted, or what is currently listed on social media bios or articles/wiki.

FAQ:

How do I make a submission? Send me an ask with the trans musician's name or stage name, and their pronouns. If they are part of a band, please include the title of this band and their roles (singer, guitarist, drummer etc).

Optional information you can include: Genre, location, more well-known artists they sound similar to, a noteable fact, why you appreciate them, favourite lyrics, favourite photos, rec a particular song

The more info you supply the easier my job will be!

Can I submit more than once? Yes. You can submit as many trans musicians as you like.

Can I submit a big or small musician? Yes. It does not matter if a musician has 30,000,000 listeners or 3.

Can I submit a non-English speaking musician? Yes, absolutely. I encourage you to do so.

Can I submit a trans musican that is part of a band or not a singer? Yes. Please also tell me the band name and their role (singer, guitarist, drummer etc).

Can I submit a non-binary musician? Yes. I am using trans as an umbrella term for all people who are not cisgendered.

This blog will largely run on submissions, just because I post a musician does not mean I am aware of or endorse everything they have said and done.

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Heaven Sent You to Me

Pairing: Apollo (who happens to look exactly like Orestes in Agora) x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3.8k

TW/CW: umm we all know Greek Mythology is like screwed up right? So there’s mean patriarchal men in this, a bit of power play between Apollo and reader, innocence!kink, oral (f!receiving), PinV sex, loss of virginity, talk of pregnancy

A/N: YES I AM AWARE THAT I SHOULD BE WRITING THE MORE THE MERRIER OR ANSWERING THE OTHER 87 ASKS IN MY INBOX BUT MY MUSE IS FICKLE OKAY? She said “Oscar as Apollo or no words at all” so here we are 🤷‍♀️ I watched The Two Faces of January last week and kept thinking that Oscar looks like a Greek god and @lovely-cryptid ‘s greek mythology AU lives rent free in my head and I couldn’t help myself…

Also the title is a lyric from an Ariana Grande because I have fully reverted ten years writing a Greek Mythology AU for my fandom du jour with a song lyric title bc I'm ~artsy~

You should have known he was a god. The way his fingers seemed to fly over the strings of his lyre. That enchanting, mellifluous voice. The smile that shone brighter than the sun itself. You’d encountered him in the woods behind the temple consecrated to him for Zeus’s sake.

Though who could blame you for assuming he was a mortal man? What would a god, an Olympian, want with you – an unimportant peasant in a small, unimportant village? He’d appeared to you as a mortal, a beautiful, alluring one, but a mortal. In fact, he’d been rather short in stature. Apollo’s affairs and exploits were famous, nay infamous, and even now it seemed impossible to reconcile the man who had spoken to you with such sweetness, who had wrung ebullient laughter, as well as previously unimaginable pleasure, from you was the mighty god you and your family had worshiped since time immemorial.

The revelation that you had lain with the god of light, music, medicine, the averter of evil, had been one that raced your head endlessly over the past few days, but it never failed to send a shiver down your spine. You instantly conjured the broad, chiseled planes of his body, so starkly contrasted with the gentle way he’d made love to you. When you revealed that you were a virgin, he was tender with you. Fragments of memories flashed in your mind’s eye but the one that oddly lingered the longest, and the most vividly, was the sweep of his thick, dark lashes across his high cheekbone when his eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy as he met his release. He had been the portrait of pleasure and beauty. You were truly a naive fool for not realizing the divinity in front of you in that moment.

“We must pray that you conceive,” your mother had declared. “You have already secured our family great status, but a demigod? Dmitri, can you imagine?”

Despite her praise, your cheeks burned in shame when she turned to your father for his reaction. You detested how openly and calculated this very intimate, typically private event in your life was being discussed. No one was supposed to know. Yet your sister had found the blood stains on your chiton while laundering it, and she’d coaxed the details out of you.

“Did it hurt?” she whispered.

“No.”

Her brows furrowed, “But you bled. It always hurts. It hurt my first time.”

“I…I don’t know. It didn’t. There was a–,” you blushed bright red and lowered your voice even further, “–a stretch, but it was pleasurable. I didn’t notice the blood until you did.”

Your sister was not willing to let it go. A trait among the women in your family that you’d failed to inherit.

“Well, how large was he?”

“Caris,” you urged her to stop. Yet, you knew your plea was useless, so you quickly approximated your lover’s size with your hands.

“Oh that definitely should have hurt!” Caris squawked in disbelief.

“I’m not talking about this anymore!” you proclaimed.

And that really should have been the end of it. Yet when you, Caris, and your parents made your weekly tribute at Apollo’s temple the following day the priests and acolytes were all abuzz. The god had appeared yesterday.

Initially, you had been as exhilarated as the rest of them, yet your stomach dropped and face blanched as the priest who had seen Apollo described him. Inky curls, olive skin, dark eyes with a strong brow and prominent nose. The god possessed an undoubtedly commanding presence, but there was a playfulness, an exuberance to him.

You and Caris traded bewildered glances. The priest’s depiction of Apollo matched up rather perfectly with Phoebus, the young man you’d stumbled across when you’d decided to take a walk through the forest rather than immediately returning home after your visit to the temple.

“It’s him,” she asserted lowly as you all headed back home.

“Shhhh,” you tried to speed up and away from her, a stupid idea because Caris had longer legs than you. When she inevitably caught up with you two seconds later, you insisted, “Don’t be silly.”

“Apollo is the god of healing and diseases. Is it really so far-fetched to believe that he could minimize any pain for his lovers? Especially the virgins?”

“Caris! Enough!”

The vehemence of your demand had caught your mother’s attention. While in the moment you were able to extinguish any suspicions she had, eventually Caris’s big mouth betrayed you. You had expected her to rage. To punish you. You, an unmarried, unbetrothed woman, had engaged in an activity that was the most important gift in your dowry to your future husband. You readied yourself for the insults and reproaches your mother would hurl at you for becoming damaged goods as a marriage prospect.

Yet, she all but kissed your feet when she found out. She rejoiced, then immediately marched you back to the temple to meet with the clerics. That was when the humiliation began. You were examined to ensure that you had in fact been deflowered. As if that hadn’t been degrading enough, you then were stripped and prayed over for hours, leering men begging Apollo for a sign to confirm that you were indeed the one the god had chosen to ravish. The manner in which the priests brusquely groped and prodded at you couldn’t have been more different than the way the deity himself had treated you, the god they claimed to serve.

When a sign didn’t immediately appear, doubt had set in. A mortal woman winning the attention of their patron god was the most momentous thing to happen in your village in generations, so if you were lying? Eternal shame. For you and your family.

You were kept overnight in the temple in a nicely appointed room, but forbidden to see anyone. You cried yourself to sleep, yet much to your relief, at dawn, Apollo provided the confirmation the priests needed and you were allowed to go. Of course, by the time you returned home, everyone knew.

After having a bit of time to contemplate it, you realized that it wasn't so much the fact that every single person in your life began treating you differently that unmoored and overwhelmed you, it was how swiftly it had all happened. It hadn’t been your choice.

You were required at the temple daily now for rituals. Thankfully, the fact you’d lain with a god disqualified you from becoming an acolyte, you were still needed for “veneration” purposes. You soon deduced this meant that the priests simply wanted to keep you around to curry favor with Apollo.

You hated it. You were the only one present in the chamber currently who had ever meaningfully interacted with the deity, yet you were reduced to a glorified altar ornament for their rites.

The only way to weather these hours-long sessions was to recall what brought you here in the first place. You retreated into your memory of that fateful afternoon when you met Apollo.

It’d been a beautiful day, and you were more at ease in nature. The hustle and bustle of the village and the imposing columns of the temple felt suffocating to you.

You’d heard him first before you saw him. The most beautiful music wafted toward you. You couldn’t have turned away if you’d wanted to. It was as if the mixture of the melody he played and the tune he sang had entranced your feet to carry you to the source of the sound. You hadn’t heard the song before, but inexplicably, it had an odd air of familiarity within your ears.

The sight of him initially seemed to be a joke. He had to be a mirage of some sort. A song so gorgeous coming from a man who was even more dazzling? Had you tripped and hit your head on your stroll from the temple? Surely you were dreaming.

His song ceased when he sensed your presence.

“I’m sorry,” your apology tumbled from your lips at once. “Please don’t stop on my account, I didn’t mean to–I’ll leave. I apologize for intruding.”

Before you could tuck and run, he called to you.

“Don’t! There’s no need.”

You froze, and slowly pivoted back to face him. He’d gotten closer to you, which was terrible for your clarity of mind. In addition to his good looks, he radiated an irresistible air of power, and his proximity only compelled you to submit to it more.

“Thank you.”

Suddenly, the man before you turned boyish and shy before he queried, “Would you like to hear more?”

“Please.”

It was the first time you were treated to his smile. It reduced you to a blushing fool with a startling amount of efficiency.

He motioned to a nearby boulder for you to take a seat on. You obeyed instantly. He took his place on a nearby log and resumed plucking at his lyre.

His song was haunting, beguiling, and hopeful all at once. His voice lilted over the lyre’s strings. He sang in a language you didn’t understand, and couldn’t begin to identify, but you were captivated all the same.

You were slightly embarrassed, though not at all surprised, that there were tears staining your cheeks when he concluded.

He grinned dopily when he saw you dabbing at your eyes, “That bad, huh?’

“Stop,” You chuckled through your tears. “You have a gift.”

He shrugged off your compliment with a frustrating amount of nonchalance.

You needed to know more about this mysterious man. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m merely passing through.”

“Are you a minstrel then?”

He smirked as if you’d said something inadvertently humorous to him. “I suppose you could call me that.”

“Well, what should I call you then?”

“Phoebus.”

“Have you traveled much, Phoebus?” you inquired.

“I have.”

“Could you tell me about the places you’ve been? I’ve never left this utterly boring village.”

“I will, if you tell me what keeps you here. Is it your village’s association with the deity?”

You cocked your head in confusion. It was an odd question to you. You strove to answer diplomatically, “While I wouldn’t say that Apollo is driving me away, I wouldn't say he’s keeping me here either.”

Again, that secretive little smirk tugged at the corners of Phoebus’s quite luscious mouth. “I see. He’s vastly overrated isn’t he?”

“Oh I wouldn’t go so far to say that!” you attempt to course-correct. “We’re blessed with his patronage.”

A mischievous glint danced behind Phoebus’s dark, magnetic eyes. “Say no more. Now, where do you want to hear about first?”

He proceeded to regale you with tales of the most wondrous places. Of seas and mountains and monsters and the divine. You got lost within his stories. You wished you could live within them.

It had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to accompany him on a stroll when he suggested it. Typically warnings would blare in your head - you must not stray any further with this handsome stranger, he could sully you, or worse, harm you, but you felt entirely safe with Phoebus. At the time, it had been impossible to put your finger on why you’d felt so. Now, it was abundantly clear: you’d been in the presence of one of the most powerful creatures in all of existence. Still, he chatted and wandered with you in a remarkably similar manner to mortal men your age.

When you two came across a river and Phoebus proposed a swim, your cheeks had burned with sheepishness. He hadn’t mocked or derided you, he simply offered to turn away while you undressed and submerged yourself into the water to afford you some modesty. However, Phoebus hadn’t been quite as bashful as you had been when disrobing. In fact, the flourish with which he all but flung off his chiton led you to believe he wanted you to watch him, rather than avert your eyes like you immediately did once you realized what he was doing. You hadn’t been quick enough however, and had caught a delectable glimpse of his toned chest, thick thighs, and what you deduced was a well-endowed groin.

You only dared look back up when you heard the splash signaling his entrance into the river. He resurfaced with his black curls matted and slicked back against his skull, an impish grin on his lips. He reached for you and you floated to him without hesitation. The feel of his bare skin against yours was intoxicating.

“I want to kiss you,” he murmured, even though you two were the only people around for at least a mile.

“You may,” you granted him permission in a similarly hushed tone.

Your lips drifted together, and then it was as if you had become a feral animal let out of its cage. You couldn’t get enough. Your lips moved against his ravenously, your legs wrapping around his torso on instinct when he moved toward the river’s bank. While the press of his arousal against your hip was certainly a foreign sensation, you weren’t afraid. He deposited you on the warm silt for a moment before retrieving your tunic and laying it under you, a makeshift bed for what was about to come.

It was then that you confessed. You didn’t know what to expect once the words left your mouth - judgment, indifference, a perverse excitement - but Phoebus smiled softly, and nodded his head, as if he’d expected it.

“Then I shall show you how beautiful pleasure can be,” he vowed.

He took his time, dipping his head between your breasts to mouth at your pert nipples, then lower to between your legs. When the tip of his nose drew a featherlight line along the seam of your sex, you gasped. You may have been a virgin, but you weren't totally naive. Caris had been betrothed recently and regaled you constantly about her rendezvous with her soon-to-be husband, but she had never mentioned this. It was as if Phoebus was sending you flying through the clouds, straight to Olympus, with only his tongue. Your fingers had wound into his damp curls to hold on for dear life as you fell apart for him.

It wasn’t until your pleasure crested that he slid a thick, suspiciously uncalloused finger through your folds and pressed it inside. He cooed comforts to you when you tightened around him, your body’s first reaction to try and expel the intrusion. One digit became two, and after a while, he guided your hand to manhood, showing you how to grip him, coaxing and coaching you on how to bring him back to hardness.

Caris had always advised you to shut your eyes and not to look at a man’s member for too long, since it wasn’t the most pleasant of sights. She was wrong in this instance. Every bit of Phoebus was mesmerizing, and his erect cock was no different from the rest of him. His encouragements echoed in your ears as if he was speaking them to you in the present.

“Yes, that’s it sunshine,” he’d panted, “You can grip me tighter, oh, that is lovely. You are a fast learner, aren’t you? I’m going to make you feel so very good.”

Becoming one had been the most intense sensation you had ever endured. It was all too much, yet you wanted more. You keened when Phoebus had draped your legs over his broad shoulders to penetrate you deeper, your skin suddenly feeling too tight. It was too much, it was too much, you’d chanted to yourself. Phoebus’s girth was unrelenting, but at the same time you never wanted it to end.

Your lover was an attuned one, so when he observed that the position was perhaps too vigorous for his little virgin, he’d rolled you over so you were straddling his ample hips and speared on his desire.

“Here, grasp onto my shoulders,” he instructed you, “so you can control the depth and the pace, yes?”

Phoebus had long fucked the words out of you, so your reply came as a breathless, frantic nod. You wished to thank him, truly, you couldn’t have asked for a more considerate man to share this with for the first time. Instead, you did as he said and found a tempo and pattern of undulating your hips against his that suited you.

Phoebus couldn’t help himself, he began meeting your pelvis, thrusting up into you. You howled in pleasure, and his gaze instantly searched out yours to confirm those were good sounds instead of pained ones. He didn’t look away once he had found the answer he was hoping for in your eyes. Those deep brown irises had bore into yours, and the longer you looked into them, the more convinced you were they held galaxies.

You were so caught up in Phoebus’s gaze that you didn’t notice he’d snuck a hand in between your bodies until the pad of his finger connected with your sensitive bud.

“There you go sunshine, let go for me, you can let go.”

You felt as if you were going to explode out of your body as Phoebus continued to repeat those sweet-nothings as if they were a prayer.

“Let go for me darling, I know you can, let go–”

“You may go.”

The high priest's imperious tone snapped you out of your reverie. No longer were you in the forest with Phoe–Apollo, but rather the towering temple consecrated to him. Your relief that you could leave superseded your annoyance at being interrupted. You desperately needed to return to the privacy of your bedroom for a bit of self-relief.

Perhaps it was because you were in such a rush that you didn’t initially notice him as you flew out of the side entrance of the temple. It was his voice that stopped you.

“You’re not with child.”

“Holy Hera! You frightened me!” You put a hand to your chest to calm your beating heart.

“So you can stop fretting." Clearly, Apollo wasn’t particularly remorseful about the scare he'd given you. "Though to be honest, I’m surprised you’re relieved. Most women, beings far more divine than yourself, are usually thrilled to carry my offspring. They clamber for the chance and flaunt their bellies if they conceive.”

“I…I could not withstand the attention, I do not think. Nor the pomp and the responsibility.”

“The priests would help with the burden.”

“Yes but the child’s father wouldn’t,” you pointed out. “As great an honor to mother a demigod would be, I would prefer a…someone to experience it all with.”

Apollo nodded. “That I could not give you.”

“I know,” There was no resentment or disappointment in your voice. “I would never expect you to.”

“That must be why I yearn for you still,” Apollo mused, “why I cannot stay away.”

“I...my family is expecting me.”

Apollo was not accustomed to being refused. He fixed you with a look of amused incredulity after you spoke.

“I do not want them to know. Or anyone for that matter.” You realized how ungrateful you sounded. To spurn a god was to write your own death sentence. “Not that I don’t desire you, or that I wish to disregard your desires–”

“You want me all to yourself.” When you opened your mouth to amend his statement, he stopped you. “It’s alright. I want you all to myself too.”

“You have me,” you averred. “However, when the priests and my mother get involved…”

“I understand. I do not wish for fanfare either.” He pulled you close to him. Your breath hitched at the press of his hardness into your hip through both of your chitons.

Your mouths were millimeters apart. Instead of closing the distance, you asked, “Why did you tell me a false name when we first met?”

He smiled that bright, beatific grin that warmed you from the inside out. “I suppose for the same reason that you want to keep this a secret. If you believe your family is meddling, then mine is…”

Apollo didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to understand. You giggled, a sound he much enjoyed. At last, he captured your lips with his. Kissing Apollo melted you, you became a molten, liquid being when he pressed his lips to yours.

As transcendent as the kiss was, the god could feel that you were holding back. “What’s wrong, sunshine?”

You were not proud of the flip your stomach did at the pet name. Once you regained control of yourself, you replied, “Nothing, nothing at all. Forgive me.”

“Don’t apologize, simply tell me what is bothering you,” he countered, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

When you hesitated, his fingers tilted your head up so your eyes met. “I won’t be angry.”

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to voice your complaint. It was funny, you’d spent your entire life beseeching Apollo for this or that in the temple, yet when he was standing right in front of you, eager to know what troubled you, you couldn’t find the words.

“Why me?” It was a deflection from Apollo’s question, but still a valid inquiry.

He chuckled. “You’re asking me to apply logic to attraction, something inherently instinctual,” Apollo pointed out. “Though if I had to try to put reasoning to it, I would say it was because you are kind, beautiful, you have a tight, juicy little cunt…” he cupped your mound to demonstrate his point. You gasped at the contact. “...and when I’m with you, I feel the most like a mortal that I've felt in decades.”

Mortal? Was that a bad thing? Were you unintentionally insulting the deity?

Apollo was quick to assuage you, “I enjoy it, sunshine. The immediacy, the urgency. It’s refreshing. You’re refreshing.”

“Thank you,” you murmured. You sought to return his kind words but what was there to say? It was obvious why a mortal such as yourself would fall for a god.

“Now, I won’t ask again. What vexes you?’

“I…after we…our first meeting,” you struggled to select the right words, “the priests wanted to corroborate that we’d lain together, and their methods were…they were not very gentle.”

Your lover’s eyes turned stormy. No sooner had you told him did a crack sound from what you guessed was inside the temple.

“No, please! Don’t hurt anyone!” you begged him just as swiftly.

Apollo’s face softened slightly. “Even after they violated you, you show them compassion. I swear to you I won’t, however, I must ensure that you, and by extension, myself are treated with respect.”

“Of course,” you acquiesced. Gods were not known for their mercy, so the fact he was willing to compromise with you at all was a victory.

Apollo pulled you into another kiss that stole your breath. “If I cannot have you now…then tonight. When the moon peaks in the sky.”

“How will I find you?”

A smirk played across his lips. “Don’t fret, sunshine. I shall ensure it.”

A/N: Sooooo…what do we think?! 🫣 A little more flowery than my usual but I just had too much fun with this and now I have ideas for a few installments 🤦‍♀️

READ PART TWO

Tagging a few folks who might be interested:

@bitch4marvel @luciannadraven33 @oof-its-roobi @twwcs, @ninebluehearts @damnzelsoul @missmarmaladeth @welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction , @romanarose @dameronscopilot

[etz-ashashiyot]

I'm bored and stuck waiting and happened to remember that on my old blog I had made this statement:

Since I have a minute, I figured I'd finally drop the list with some brief explanations:

1. By Way Of Sorrow - Coyote Grace version

This song and its lyrics, especially as sung by a queer/trans bluegrass band, could not be more Jew-ish in vibe. I am aware this is a cover, but I have only ever heard their version and that's the one that matters to me. I love love love this song, so much, and it perfectly captures how I feel about having been welcomed into the Jewish people after years of exclusion and othering from numerous other quarters. Am Yisrael has taken me in, treated me like family, connected me to the Divine, healed my wounds, and helped me feel as whole as one can in a broken and unredeemed world - while giving me the tools to join the work of tikkun olam myself.

2. The Farthest Field - The Lumber Jills version

This is the best version I could find; the original I was shown I can't find but will link if I do. This song was actually introduced to me by one of my orthodox rabbis, and I agree with him that it can be understood as a beautiful image of geulah.

3. Hallelujah - Coyote Grace & Girlyman

This one just makes me happy, and the words, message, and themes are very on-brand for Jewish vibes as well in my opinion.

4. Be Thou My Vision - old Irish Hymn (this version and this version are my favorites)

This one is very obviously a hymn and therefore decidedly Not Jewish. On the other hand, the words aren't so explicitly Christian that it rules out use by Jews (in my opinion) and especially if you translate the words into Hebrew, it sounds just like a traditional piyyut. (@springstarfangirl if you want to add your beautiful translation, please feel free!)

5. Down to the River to Pray - Alison Krauss

This is one where I do think the lyrics are a lot closer to being Christian specific, but it makes the list for a couple reasons: first, I've encountered it in Jewish-specific contexts without modification (one of our rabbis actually had us sing it like a regular song during zemirot), and second, there's a modified version by Nefesh Mountain that's quite enjoyable.

6. Whither Thou Goest - traditional

Yes, this one is a hymn too, but the words are directly quoting the Book of Ruth - her famous vows to Naomi, and to the Jewish people - and so it's already practically a Jewish song. It also has a special place of pride for me as a ger, and also because I used it as my wedding song in both the English (as heard in this version) and I also transliterated the Hebrew for our singer to do as well. It works nicely in both languages!

7. Roll the Ol' Chariot - David Coffin

This one I think is a little less direct, but I love it and included it for two reasons: first, it's a song of getting through it and surviving and thriving under tough circumstances, and second, you could very easily put liturgy to this melody instead.

8. For the Autumn Sky - traditional

Ignoring the last verse, this hymn could be very easily adapted into a beautiful Sukkot melody. For the last verse, I'd either simply leave it out, or one could write a Sukkot or Tu Bishvat themed verse to distinguish it. Incidentally, this was one of my favorite hymns growing up.

9. Sanctuary - Shaker melody

The video for this one is obviously mega-Christian, but it's on the list because we actually sing it all the time in shul and it has a special place in my memory from going to camp as a kid. Our shul is definitely not the only one who uses it in a Jewish context, either: this version by Cantor Julia Cadrain is really lovely.

10. Genesis 3:23 - The Mountain Goats

Where are my fellow Mountain Goats fans?? I know you're out there, lol. Look, I know that John Darnielle is coming at this from a Christian perspective, but two things: first of all, TMG has a number of Jewish fans I think at least in part because the lyrics speak deeply to the specific feelings around life (and other people) being horrible to you, surviving, and thriving even in the wake of deep trauma. Second of all, I think this one in particular brings up a number of interesting ideas about the meaning of home, of homecoming, of returning to a home that no longer really exists in the same way, and of exile and redemption. What would it look like to return to Gan Eden? Is this what geulah is supposed to look like, at least in some interpretations? What does it mean if not?

Anyway, this is it for now, but I may add to this list later, because there are definitely a few more! Please also feel free to add your own in the notes!

[brokendoor16]

Okay. So I'm aware that we LOVE love of my life for S3 post-angel depression Crowley, but hear me out. What I actually NEED in S3 is a (ridiculously, impossibly, drunk-to-the-extent-that-would-kill-a-mere-mortal) post-angel depression Crowley doing karaoke to Bohemian Rhapsody. JUST IMAGINE THE FUCKING MOOD SWINGS IN THAT SONG-

As a brief demonstration, I will now pick a lyric from each verse (I'm so sorry guys, this is what happens when I don't sleep so now it's all of your problems):

I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy- delivered in the MOST fucking overdramatic way possible, probably throwing his arms around a looking up (to curse Heaven- AKA try and figure out if Aziraphale's about to watch him embarrass himself again)

Mama, just killed a man- standing up from his chair (this scene is taking place at the closed coffee shop, I've just decided this), with an IMPECCABLE Freddie Mercury impression and kinda staring into Nina's soul (she's both amused and terrified)

I don't wanna die // I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all- slurring his words, slumping back into a chair, sounding utterly depressed and also done with life. Maggie is deeply concerned and trying to count up how much wine he's drank.

Scaramouche, scaramouche, will you do the fandango?- completely manic. At the peak of drunkeness. At some point he has got up on the table and is now pointing at Nina like he's expecting her to actually DO the fucking Fandango (tbh he probably is)

BONUS LINE FROM THE SAME VERSE: Thunderbolts and lightening, very very frightening me- again, peak drunkeness. Slurring his words so hard you can barely tell what he's saying. Stumbling off of the table but still stupidly manic.

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?- looking up (let's be honest he's probably fallen over and is hauling himself off of the floor) at Maggie and Nina, hammered out of his mind but oddly endearing (according to Maggie, at least. Nina has plenty of words about the whole display and 'endearing' is most DEFINITELY not one of them)

Beezlebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me- practically fucking SCREAMING, barely able to stand up but somehow with an inhuman amount of energy and finding himself the funniest being to ever grace the earth because BEEZLEBUB

So you think you can love me and leave me to die?- suddenly recovering a whole lot of strength. And anger. Standing up, potentially smoking, staring directly upwards and SCREAMING (he's not doing well guys)

Nothing really matters // nothing really matters to me- there's no more energy. He's on the floor and too drunk to get back up. Probably just slumps over clutching a wine bottle (did I mention he's been using it as a mic?) and goes to sleep. Maggie, Nina, and Aziraphale (IF he's watching) and deeply concerned. He wakes up with a banging headache and an intense feeling of embarrassment.

So yes. That was my TED talk on why Crowley should get drunk and sing Bohemian Rhapsody in S3. Thank you for making it to the end of this train wreck, and I sincerely apologise. I'm very sleep deprived.

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

Hey. This might be very stupid, but i hope you answer this.

Today I accidently got sucked into your blog, which is ironic since I'm a huge swiftie. (but I'm not here to hate on you, I swear)

The thing is for months I've been doubting where I stand on that. Like if i should call myself a swifte or not. when I was young, I used to worship the ground she walked on. but in the past year, I've slowly realised I've been very sheltered. like the problems people point out about her sometimes are actual real problems, but my brain just doesn't know how to respond to that as it has been taught taylor swift is a goddess and can do no wrong. Since your posts are tagged with #exswiftie, i figure you'd understand.

I am not from america, so I can understand then politics part of it all only to a certian extend. the other things, I just dont know what to say to that. The most i can reply is..."yes that is a bit of a problem". I feel don't feel like a swiftie at that moment.

I had fed my mind this narrative that people who hate taylor swift passionately are like untrustworthy or just a walking red flag, or just "don't get it". Now after reading your actual breakdowns I understand you have a rather educated opinion and perception of things. Which clearly rules out my narrative.

I don't know what I feel like I have to define where I stand on this, I just do. I know I genuinely enjoy her music a lot, even there are songs I don't want to hear more than once. I love the whole swiftie lore, digging deep on each lyrics finding out what they mean, finding clues easter eggs just losing my mind over surprise songs. Then i see this other side, which can't be defined with anything less than deeply toxic, which makes me question whether or not this thing i love so much is genuinely good or not.

Hello dear, apologies for the delay in reply :) I am happy to chat with you. I hope that you did not think I would ignore you.  

I was also a Swiftie for nearly 15 years. I got her debut record as a Christmas present in 2006 or 2007. Though I cannot remember which year it was, I loved her from the start. At 10 years old, I was immediately interested. My mother approved of me owning her music simply because she was inoffensive. She didn’t curse or talk about sex, in the beginning, so she was deemed appropriated for my childhood self.  She and I have since grown up. She is now a terribly pretentious bully- and, well, I grew up much too poor and much too hungry to turn into a bully like her. 

The problem- and something I think you’re very much aware of- is that Swift has built herself up in her fandom as perfect. She encourages fans to defend her every action- and rewards them for their efforts through “Swiftmas” or “Secret Sessions” or “hidden easter eggs that only the smartest- most dedicated fans will figure out.” It’s all methodically calculated to keep up an air of reciprocity between Swift, as the fearless leader, and her band of merry misfits- the fans.  

You are not dumb for falling into her rhetorical situation - she's set the marketing strategy up on purpose. It’s specifically created to attract attention- and, to make people feel good, or productive, by participating in her marketing strategy. She gives people an image of herself as a poor innocent victim of the media, or of any critique, and then rewards people for defending her. In Literary study, we call this “Pathos” as the rhetorical appeal to emotion through messaging- textual work of some kind. Rhetoric like this can be found in all sorts of media- commercials about starving children or beaten dogs, charity event banners aiming to persuade someone to donate. It’s all predicated on the appeal to our common emotion, or human capacity to empathize with each other. For, every time fans are rewarded by her attention- after defending her from a perceived enemy, or figuring out some hidden clue- they feel closer to the idol, they feel happy to have her attention. They get that emotional impact of believing they are helping Taylor Swift, or understanding her better on some more human, connected, level. It’s a game of risk and reward for her. Never mind that none of this altruistic- she gets paid through our attention on her- and if you are not directly lining her pockets with your cash money, she does not actually care about you. It’s the image of caring she projects that matters much more than the fact that she doesn’t actually care.

I’m sure you can think of many more examples wherein Swift has played this game of attention and reward with fans. It’s everywhere- her easter eggs are a great example. Sometimes her use of Pathos is benign- non malicious, therefore a non-issue. However, she often weaponizes this rhetoric in a way that is harmful.

This interplay she sets up, between herself and her fans, is made more intensive through her pathos- heavy approach to Rhetoric. To further illustrate, one of the ways people often explain Pathos is by saying that it represents our, as human beings, judgement affect. We see, or hear, the narrative Swift espouses and make judgements about it. If she says: The music critics are sexist towards me. We say: 1.) Sexism is morally wrong, 2.) Taylor Swift is facing sexism from Music critics, Therefore.) The music critics are sexist and morally wrong, because they are criticizing Taylor Swift.

So, all the critics are bad- and we don't need to listen to them. It's also a way Swift creates permissive attitudes towards attacking anyone who critique's her- because she can so easily label them all as sexist.

She uses this basic syllogism to justify leveraging her fans against all kinds of people- it's not just the critics. I just wanted to give a concrete example, and I will go more in depth on this subject in another post.  

She is playing with people’s emotions, while she is also self-victimizing,and leveraging her audience’s innate human rejection of, for instance, sexism as it offends our personal values. No one is saying that sexism isn't morally corrupt; however, Taylor Swift points to valid criticism and calls it sexism so that her audience will attack. People often have valid critique of Swift- She just doesn't want to face critique at all- ever. If people say her music is too self-centered- Swift says that is Sexism. If people say her music is boring- she calls it sexism. If people say her music is shallow and only centered are relationships- She calls it sexism. When, in reality, it's valid criticism that has nothing to do with her being a woman. Only ever writing songs about your own myopic, self-centered perception of interpersonal relationships is shallow. Her music is objectively boring, because it's derivative. Her music is completely self-centered- and she only admits to that when it benefits her, but when critics say it, she calls it sexism.

Please don’t think badly of yourself. I am not here to hate on you either- I was you. I am not here to hate on anyone at all- I just want to share how my own knowledge, and expertise, of rhetorical appeals and literary analysis can expose Taylor Swift. Swift relies on this rhetorical technique to thrive, she obfuscates the truth, schemes, and manipulates people into thinking her music is the best thing on Earth- or thinking that she is literally a Saint. Clearly- nothing on Earth is that perfect- So why does she need her fan base to consider her a genius, and a saint, so badly?

Personally, I have no problem admitting I have flaws. I think most sane people can admit to their flaws. It’s not a bad thing to have flaws. So why does Taylor Swift react to all criticism like it’s the worst thing on Earth. Why does she have a whole song about calling critics “mean/ and a liar/ and pathetic/ and alone in life” (“Mean” 2010). She has the nerve to call that song an “anti-bullying” song; yet, is it so clearly bullying that random critic who wrote a bad review about her concert one time in 2009? She really hated that guy- and all he was doing was his job. She called him a drunken loser for just doing his job. 

She's written so many songs about how all her critics are just stupid, morally corrupt, or sexist: "The Man" (2019), "Mean" (2010), "But Daddy I love Him" (2024), "New Romantics" (2014), "Shake it Off" (2014), "I know Places" (2014), "Anti-Hero" (2023), "Paris" (2023), "Blank Space" (2014), "I did something Bad" (2018), "Dancing with our hands tied" (2018). There are more songs wherein she carries this theme of "everyone is out to get me, and they all hate me for no good reason" but I think I've listed enough.

The general message is all over "Evermore" and "Folklore" too every time she calls the general public "Clowns" or "masqueraders"

It's just everywhere- her subtle devaluation of legitimate criticism. Trying to chalk it all up to the critics being simply dumb, sexist, or malicious in some way. Perhaps some people are mean- true- but to generalize every criticism as evil? That's just her actually playing a victim card. There's no way every single critic, or person who doesn't like her, is evil, bad, or malicious in some way. Okay?

I’m tired of her claiming to be an amazing person and an amazing poet- when she is just not either of those things. She’s not a kind person- it's all over her music in the ways she maliciously hurts people for fun. She’s not an amazing poet either. I have a few college degrees- and one pass through her work, with a serious intention of literary analysis, I discover that her writing is plain, banal, and derivative. 

She wants everyone to compare her to Emily Dickinson, Dylan Thomas, and Shakespeare. So, I’m doing what she wants and taking her work seriously enough to critique it. Except that, in critique, I find out why it’s all poorly written- and why it’s just a bunch of thinly veiled conservative iterations of the same boring message over and over. All she ever says in her music is “poor me” and “I hate” (insert person- Kim K., Kanye, Matty, Joe, Jake, John, Scooter, Scott, Harry, Calvin, the media at large, anyone who critiques her, and men in the music industry as a whole). She has the longest list of enemies I think I’ve ever seen- and the funny thing is that all these people avoid her at all costs. None of these people talk about her- yet she is still singing, writing songs, and getting her fans to post memes about how awful they are years, even decades, later.  

It all gets a bit tiresome? No? Personally, I don’t wish to live a life full of such self-pity and hatred- so why should I listen to it in music form? Ya know?  

In my posts, I am attempting to find the truth. I don’t want to “hate” on anyone or anything- but I am going to seek truth in her work.  

I will be posting more about how she devoids Shakespeare of his social reformist efforts. I’m going to post more about how she twists the meaning of every literary reference she’s ever made. I am not kidding, she has misrepresented, and misinterpreted every single literary reference in her entire discography. It’s astounding how hard Swift tries to sound thoughtful- without actually being thoughtful. I will be posting about how she only ever name-drops to either tear other people down or self-depreciate herself in effort to seek pity. I will be talking more about her use of rhetorical appeals to both attract an audience, keep their attention through risk-reward trade-off, and manipulate them into fighting her battles for her. I will be talking about how she upholds a bunch of harmful stereotypes in her music. She often alludes, or blatantly includes allusion to colonialist attitudes. She’s used the LGBT community for profit without making any real activist efforts. She’s leveraged feminism like a weapon against other women- yet never actually has feminist themes in her music. She’s just so painfully hollow- upon closer inspection.  

I don’t hate her as a person. I think she’s unethical, sure, but that doesn’t mean I hate her, want her to die, or anything extreme at all. I would never wish harm to another human being. In fact, after seeing a lot of the harmful stuff in her music, especially about her kind of fucked up views on relationships, I sincerely hope she gets some professional help and finds some peace in this world. When I critique Taylor Swift it’s about her work and her brand- It's not about her personhood.  

I just think that no one Earth is above reproach, or critique, and we must all be held accountable for our own actions. She’s the one that puts her work out there for people- It's therefore completely appropriate for me to discuss her work. 

Edit: Oh and I want to add- I wish you luck in figuring out what you really think about Taylor Swift. If you ever need to talk or vent more- my inbox is always open. :) With peace and love- bye bye

[biblicallyaccuratecrow]

rambling about songs my brain associates with isat (pt. 1)

[woe, spoilers be upon ye!]

i have a 250+ song isat playlist. I am unhealthily obsessed with finding new songs to put in it. Here's a few that make me go absolutely batshit insane.

I've already rambled about this one on my art account a while back, but this song is so insanely loop-coded....

I'm standing on a stage Of fear and self-doubt It's a hollow play, But they'll clap anyway

You could give me any song that has some kind of reference to plays or theatre and I could probably find a way to make it about isat. but specifically this makes me think about twohats and how loop views their place in the world as a performance, a pawn, not even a character but a plot device... yeah

I'm living in an age That calls darkness light Though my language is dead Still the shapes fill my head I'm living in an age Whose name I don't know Though the fear keeps me moving, Still my heart beats so slow

I probably don't have to break this one down for you, but yeah, Island North of Vaugarde, the forgotten language... "still the shapes fill my head" has always in my mind referenced the stars and constellations, and how they're familiar but foreign...

-

thanks to @/ricecaqes and their trust ceremony animatic, this song lives in my head rent free. Even just as a whole this song is SO isat for me. literally from the first fucking lines:

Will I know when I’ve gone too far? Or frozen myself in time? An impossible brain with impossible wants Lost and astray, with impossible thoughts

like. it really can't get much more nail on the head than that?

then you got this:

So cold, I’m freezing Every piece of praise and sign that I’m believed in Solid in a crystal ball It bends the waves of the light to mend the rest of my life

and literally the first time I heard this song i paused it and said, out loud, "OH FUCK." Because. it's act 5 siffrin. Like, the slow descent into despair followed by the determination that the only way to perserve the life and the family they love is to keep them with him, to do the exact same thing the king did...

Do you also see your future starting with the farthest part? Live your life to close the space between the end and start And when it’s hard, do you hang onto any chance That you might be in control? That you’re the one who owns

For one, once you reach the end of act 2, you're constantly aware of the head housemaiden being as far as you can go, and then you're planning around it the entire time.

And then, you have. siffrin grasping for any kind of control they can have over the situation, desperately. and failing repeatedly because they simultaneously think that they are undeserving of getting what they ultimately want... yeah...

i won't go into the rest of the lyrics because honestly it's pretty well covered by the animatic but. yeah trust ceremony my sweet beloved.

-

rest in peace siffrin no middle no last name, you would have loved the mountain goats.

yeah uh. this one is also pretty high up on songs that make me go "damn that's siffrin alright".

I am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam And no one in her right mind would make my home her home My heart's an autoclave

i think for me it's the idea of siffrin feeling like they're nothing, and even if they are something or someone, they are bad, worse than bad, worthless. also referencing homesickness.... yeah...

When I try to open up to you I get completely lost Houses swallowed by the earth, windows thick with frost And I reach deep down within, but the pathways twist and turn And there's no light anywhere, and nothing left to burn

I mean, this one is also pretty self-evident. siffrin losing hope while being stuck in the house... wanting to connect with the party but being completely uncapable of doing so out of the sheer terror of being left behind... act 5, with the house literally warping...

I dreamt that I was perched atop a throne of human skulls On a cliff above the ocean, howling wind and shrieking seagulls And the dream went on forever, one single static frame Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name

siffrin feels responsible for the loops, every aspect of them. their deaths, their party-member's deaths, their failures, everything. and in the end, all they really wanted was for someone to truly see them? to have a family, to not be left behind and forgotten by the world.... the importance of names and siffrin's name in particular in the story also makes this hit home for me.

-

for brevity's sake i'll just start with these three- if people are interested in hearing me justify my insane music choices i'll probably do more.... for now, see ya!

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

the pages are turning~

a months old pic of my desk

29th august 2024

day 4/50 - productivity challenge

🕒 6:00 a.m.

sleep deprivation is hitting. eating leftovers and coffee for breakfast.

checked notifs

actually ate some goddamn breakfast

not me realizing that i barely eat 2 meals every school day..

revised psychology: ch-1: what is psychology

here's a (self) reminder to actually go study instead of procrastinating 30 mins by watching study motivation videos.

also i recommend listening to non-lyrical music while studying. i personally listen to classical piano music. this is what i was listening to today morning.

showered

morning skincare

extended duolingo streak

aaand off to school. thought i would be late but honestly i've been reaching at the correct time all these days. if i leave my house by 8:05 then i'm good.

at school i first had physics and then 2 continuous chemistry classes (the teacher is good but her classes are so draining ugh).

completed physics classwork (the stuff i missed when i was absent on tuesday)

did the OCEAN test in psychology class! idk why but i love personality tests. i'll discuss my results with my teacher tmr hopefully but what i gathered is that i'm an ambivert leaning to introversion and ok emotional regulation & stability. my other classmate was very much an extrovert with higher tendency to take others' words to heart. we bunked the last 2 english classes together in the library lol. also want to say that i'm so ashamed for having formed an image in my mind of her, without really knowing her that well. i cruelly judged her prematurely and though we didn't really talk about our lives and stuff, we did get closer (maybe even friends?) today and i regret my judgments. ik i would be crushed if someone thought up an image of me in their head like that and i try not to do the same but sometimes i make mistakes. i'm trying to be more aware of that.

studied psychology ch-6: human memory (in the library when i skipped english)

lightly rained the entire trip home and got much louder as i ate a hearty lunch 😋

started a word doc for biology investigatory project

started a word doc for chemistry investigatory project

me and my bestfriend have been much more honest with our feelings recently. the saying "distance makes the heart grow fonder" was actually made for us. she's in a new college all popular with new pretty friends and boys probably crushing on her and she says i'm her favourite person. i'm at a new school slowly making new friends and she's my favourite person. i told her i love her. she deserves to know that. and i meant it totally platonically and that doesn't make it any less. if anyone ever asks, "who's your first love?" i'll say her name. it'll always be her.

practiced playing keyboard 🎹

read newspaper 📰 (some of those cases make me feel sick)

post for studyblr weekly prompt

dinner. yum. noodles and cake.

made notes psychology ch-1: what is psychology?

night skincare

🕒 nope! pulled an all-nighter.. yes i have school tmr 😃 listen i do not recommend doing this shit at all. why did i do it you may ask? i don't really have any crushing deadlines as such, but i've tricked my mind into thinking my own plans are deadlines. this week my sleep has been astronomically fucked up. the weekend will be a reset (i have school on saturday 😭) and i will prioritze sleep. i need to at least manage 6-7 hours everyday.

edit: actually i fell asleep around 2 a.m. and did no other studying..

🎧 i love you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams

her songs are actually just excerpts from my journal but minus the romance unfortunately like where's my gf ugh we're wasting time

a months old pic of my desk

[a-game-of-beginnings]

432 and Fools Garden

OH, hi @xmangokun, thanks for your comment on Into The Vortex and that's so great you've associated Fools Garden with 432 before! This reminded me that I never posted this movement test of him on here - and yes, I've straight up decided that's the guy's voice and so many songs of theirs resonate with him, I feel. Here, have a list..! Save the World Tomorrow I've drawn a sketch before where 432 annoyed his coworkers on full purpose with some karaoke, singing this one right in their face. The perfect excuse to tell them "f**k you" on, ahem, accident. Outta Love If I were the kind to do full song animatics, he would be singing this one while wandering the hallways, once again looking for the exit. Cold He would sing this one to himself, and he would sing it to you, too. Innocence That's the song from my video up there. If I did a full video, it would switch to his Settings self halfway through. Highest Mountain The song that goes with my "Into the Vortex" picture. 432's last moments as an employee, or his first ones as Settings. Closer (2001 Version) What I love about Fools Garden is that a lot of their songs are melancholic, but often also uplifting and full of hope and wonder. Probably They can also be very cheeky and a bit silly. Just like our 432 here. Bighouse Pyromaniac Casually singing about burning everything down? Also very him. Don't Speak This is such a great cover version of that song and also the type of thing 432 would sing at his coworkers to annoy them. Electrify I've drawn a comic page for this one, of Settings bugging the Narrator... but also not actually bugging him. Ordinary Man Settings432 (Post-Parable) would also sing this one at the Narrator because he knows it hits a nerve, and the Narrator will pap him for it. One Fine Day Settings432 has mentioned in a doodle somewhere on here that the "Freedom Ending has great acoustics", and this is the song he tested that on. Fireflies This one's just lovely, and wise, and once in a while my Settings can be like that. Yes, really. He can be wise. SOMEtimes. Reason As much as Settings loves company, he IS aware that the Player and the inhabitants of the Parable will always be opposing forces in a way. Rise and Fall This is just a calm and quiet and slightly haunting song, I like it, so I'm adding it here. Lemon Tree This is a great, newer version of the song, definitely one our 432 here would sing as well. And here's some more assorted ones I don't really associate with 432 as much, lyrics-wise, but I still like them a lot: Wild Days (2009 version) Does Anybody Know Silence Dreaming (2009 version) Emily

[pearwaldorf]

This is an introduction to Hozier playlist for my friend @junemermaid. The categories are a little idiosyncratic, but I think they make sense. I don't know what music services you have access to, so there are no links. I trust you can figure out how to get access to the songs.

Things I didn't know I needed words for until I heard these songs

Foreigner's God

Butchered Tongue (an introduction to the song from the Choctaw Theater in Oklahoma)

(additional reading: “A’ghailleann”: On Language-Learning and the Decolonisation of the Mind, by my friend Iona. It is about Gaelic and not having access to the first language you spoke, and how we deal with those sorts of things.)

Wry narration from self-aware narrators

Jackie and Wilson

Almost (Sweet Music)

Nobody

(What I mean is in contrast to something like this from Lord Huron. The narrator's a fucking idiot but I'm not sure he's aware of that.)

Horny but not really about sex (but not not either)

De Selby Part 2 (the video, starring fellow Irishman Domhnall Gleeson, is so pretentious, I love it to bits)

Talk (the song I'm totally going to make a Hannigram vid to, one of these days I swear)

NFWMB

Yes he really is Like That, Tumblr was not exaggerating

In a Week

Like Real People Do

In the Woods Somewhere

To be fair, I think he's gotten away from this a lot more since the debut album. People mean the bog prince nonsense affectionately, but I think they also use it as an excuse to ignore his more political songs. (On the other hand, the oatmeal.)

The way white people should cover songs by Black artists

Say My Name (more info on why he decided to cover it)

Problem > Regulate (As a child of the 90s I respect this so much)

The ones I'm really fucking angry about because they're gorgeous and beautiful and poetic

Work Song (the second song I would put on any Shepard/Garrus playlist)

Shrike

Unknown / Nth (this is an Aziraphale/Crowley song to me; the bridge fucking took me out at the knees the first time I heard it)

Abstract (Psychopomp) (This song is deeply weird in the best way. It is the perfect early oughts pop song I always wanted from Coldplay but it's about a formative and somewhat disturbing event in the narrator's childhood. But also about romantic love somehow?)

Unreal Unearth is, I think, a level up in terms of poetic lyricism.

The prettiest song you will ever hear about domestic violence and is really weird to sing along to live because of that

Cherry Wine

A disturbingly well-adjusted breakup song

All Things End

That random EDM song he did a couple years ago that's actually really good??

Tell It To My Heart

[infamous-if]

if you have answered this already, pls ignore, i am blind

but, how do the ROs say "i love you" without saying "i love you"?

I think one thing that G and Vic have in common is that their love language is gift-giving, but they do it in different ways. Vic does it by buying actual gifts. Jewelry, clothes, things to suit their loved one's hobbies, etcetera. Her way of telling them she loves them is anything that she can give someone to make them happy. On the other hand, G is sort of a grand gesture giving person (surprised?) but in a very gaudy, boastful way lmao. Their partner wants to go see the beach? G would rent out an entire island for a weekend. G would do that typical celeb-romance thing where they hire an orchestra to play music inside their home. G goes all out and likes the love and praise they get for doing so. It's very innocent sort of like a child who is pulling on their mother's dress saying "look! look! tell me you like it!"

Seb would talk often about the future without realizing he's making a lot of assumptions. "Hey, we should visit here next year" or "this would be a nice couch for our future apartment." When he's in love, he's in love for the long haul and shows he's in love by rearranging his life to accommodate the new person in it. And he's happy to do it! He's never been one to think of him since he had Maya, but now everything he does will have both Maya and his partner in mind.

Seven is through music womp womp yes I'm aware no one is surprised haha but mixtapes, sending songs, writing lyrics, just sharing their hobbies with their partner is a big sign that Seven is in deep. I think they just like to....absorb the other person completely as they'd want the other person to do with them. It's a weird way to explain it but Seven is not a 'down the middle' kind of person. Either they're not in it or they're COMPLETELY in it. Two extremes but that's just how sev is.

Also, a lot of physical affection.

Orion's is by putting his partner first. His job no longer is his top priority, appearances, and trying to keep a strong face no longer matters. Orion being completely open and vulnerable is his way of showing "i love you and im doing this because you're you." Like Seven, Orion would show more physical affection.

For August it's sort of like Orion but in the sense that August comes out of their shell more. They show their emotions more, they're more vulnerable and emotionally honest. Basically, putting their self out there. August also loves sharing themself like Seven; sharing their hobbies, their thoughts, and having long conversations about weird things they think about.

[fandomchokehold]

Musical Songs I Think The Boys™ Would Do a Burlesque Number To

*obviously these are only ones I've listened to, I wasn't a theater kid and don't really know much about plays and musicals, please don't be weird or mean in the notes 😭 and YES as a huge ABBA fan I know all the songs in Mamma Mia are just ABBA songs*

also this is way longer than I intended so there's more under the cut

Solos

Astarion - "Sweet Transvestite" from Rocky Horror Picture Show

this one is pretty obvious and expected but like !!! yeah !!! that's just him !!! he'd do the full routine, coming up in the elevator, throwing the cloak off to reveal the slutty lil outfit he has on underneath, throwing his drink at the audience while Gale Brad is talking, lounging on the throne, and then leaving mysteriously in the elevator OH BABY !!!

Wyll - "Land of Lola" from Kinky Boots

he would absolutely slay this routine, the lyrics are practically about him - "with arms as hard as steel" "with the moves of Fred Astaire" "I'm black jesus, I'm black mary, but this mary's legs are hairy" ??? I need this man to absolutely let loose and I NEED to see him in those cunty thigh high boots 👏 RED 👏 IS 👏 HIS 👏 COLOR !!!!

Gale - "Toucha Toucha Touch Me" from Rocky Horror Picture Show

I honestly just think he'd be really good at playing the part of the "innocent shy reserved man who does a complete 180 after being exposed to pure unbridled sexuality"; we all know he's not actually like that it's fully an act because he knows he has the looks of a tired english professor but the soul of a whore I just- you don't know how badly I need to see him doing a slightly desperate unhinged strip tease on stage on a garrish four poster bed OKAY ?!?!

Halsin - "Toxic Love" from Ferngully

I need him in his pretend villain era, I think he'd be cartoony like if he's gonna work a stage he's gonna werk a stage m'kay; he is actually using this performance to raise awareness about the climate crisis and donate the money he makes towards more accessible clean energy and environmental conservation efforts and would love to provide more info and resources while still in his g-string to all interested parties in the lobby of the venue

Duets

Astarion & Gale - "Planet Schmanet Janet" from Rocky Horror Picture Show

Astarion as Dr. Frank N. Furter, Gale as Janet; we all know this is a trademark Astarion ruse to get to chase a scantily clad Gale around menacingly and torment him in front of an audience, I mean c'mon who wouldn't want to do that 👀

Astarion & Wyll - "Does Your Mother Know?" from Mamma Mia

Astarion as Tanya, Wyll as Pepper (I had to look that up apparently his name is Pepper); I feel like Astarion would identify with Tanya on a spiritual level, they're both wine aunt cougars who love luxury, and after seeing that Wyllstarion interaction where they flirtatiously talk about their age gap this song just really is about them huh

Astarion & Halsin - "I Can Make You a Man" + "I Can Make You a Man (Reprise)" from Rocky Horror Picture Show

Astarion as Dr. Frank N. Furter, Halsin as Rocky; tbh this is just so Astarion can show off the "bounty of nature's gifts" that have been bestowed upon him and Halsin just finds how this twink is climbing him and swinging on his outstretched arm like a jungle gym too amusing to not participate

Gale & Wyll - "Horny Angry Tango" from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

either of them in either role; this is purely for the theatrics and to show off their actual ballroom dance skills, Gale is going to be the one getting dipped though

Gale & Halsin - "La Seine" from A Monster In Paris

Gale as Lucille, Halsin as Francoeur; I can't lie it's purely for the height difference that's totally canon and I didn't make up in my head, the contrast between Gale "Lil 5'8" Wizard" Dekarios and Halsin "The 6'5" Bear" Silverbough is just *chef kiss* 👌

Wyll & Halsin - "Lay All Your Love On Me" from Mamma Mia

either of them in either role; they're lowkey almost fucking on stage, Wyll chose it for the drama and Halsin went along for the overtly sexual choreography

Group Numbers

"Lady Marmalade" from Moulin Rouge

Astarion's favorite and Halsin's least favorite for the same reason: it's extremely flashy and dramatic

"Rose Tint My World" which transitions into "Don't Dream It" from Rocky Horror Picture Show

Astarion as Janet for "RTMW" but Frank for "DDI", Wyll as Columbia, Halsin as Rocky, Gale as Brad, with special guest Elminster as Dr. Scott during "Don't Dream It"

"Haus of Holbein" from SIX

tbh I don't have an explanation for this one I've really only listened to the corsets part and think it's kinda cunt, idk they'd all slay in corsets

"Big Spender" from Sweet Charity

ok just imagine any of them doing Fosse choreography

"Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)" from Mamma Mia

ok just imagine there's stripper poles-

"Cell Block Tango" from Chicago

with special guests Minsc and Volo; no one knows how they got here, Minsc is a bit too uncoordinated but he's got the spirit and Volo was recording everything from the audience for research purposes but saw they were short a character and thought to himself "what better way to learn than through participation?"

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

I'm about to be really stupid here for a second because I love making theories about Gabby's appearance based on the canon of angelic appearances of some churches so. Bear with me <3

In some beliefs (iirc the Roman and Orthodox Catholicism. But there might be more), angels appear to living beings in the form that is most easily "digestible" to their minds, such as humanoid or whatever Daniel saw that popular belief says is the True form. SO, basing on this fact and that V1 is possibly self aware and not just a "mindless AI", we can assume Gabe's appearance is the way it is because that's how V1 interprets whatever shape this silly man is.

Taking all of that into context, I assume his armor and wings change based on how V1 interprets the signals sent to his visor. If it's canon compliant (I don't recall lol) that his video buffer is actually low res for fuel efficiency, that could also fit in with why the wings are only visible to it sometimes.

All of that to say: Gabz got no human face under that helmet most certainly. I like to think V1 would see another robot under that thang since it's "the child of man" and, such as its predecessor, has a tendency to see things beyond its understanding and interpreted as "equals under a common law" as akin to itself.

Something something "God made in man's image" but switch it to robots 🔫🤠

Interpretations are fun (and feel free to send them :3)

Yes it’s canon that the low poly look is to save processing power for machines, except for sentries. Tho based on the paintings and stuff we see, that is just what he looks like to everyone. But that doesn’t have to be his “true form”. He can get weird as a treat :)

It could just be his default form for convenience 🤔 any [hopefully former] WoW players here.. lol. Could be like how the dragons take humanoid forms.

The wings disappearing and reappearing seems to be something he can just do tho. This isnt from V1s pov and they’re not visible.

The last part about v1 seeing his face as a machine reminds me of this art which is a very based interpretation but I can’t find it right now. I’m sure someone can link it. Basically his head was made of a bunch of hands around a ball of light and it looked similar to V1s head. Nvm someone linked it

Here is the art :)

reminds me of these lyrics that are So Gabe to me (song is Quiet as a Rat by Amigo the Devil)